"She… is just a girl."
A small echoing heartbeat whispered in the air as Hera's skin slowly returned to its natural brown color– the popping veins that were protruding, now almost nonexistent as all that remained was an unblemished surface; truly, one befitting of a model.
And with the disappearance of her grey skin and almost monstrous muscle mass, so did her will to fight. How could she even, when the face of the girl in front of her was filled with all sorts of scars?
The girl wasn't really that young, no. Perhaps it was better to call her a young woman– but still, if she was right, then Dark Millenium shouldn't be any older than 20 years old. Heck, she could be a student of the Academy, Hera thought as she looked at her comrades; which, judging by their faces, also thought the same.
No, there was one that was perhaps the most shocked of them all; his eyebrows were rose almost to his hairline; his eyes, as wide as they could be.
