The shelter door slams behind you as the village erupts in alarm, but your shouted challenge is swallowed almost instantly by the rising wind. Outside, the sky has become a grinding wall of gray, and the nearest tornado writhes across the plain like a living column of ruin. Your hidden arsenal answers your motion in a blaze of thunder, thirty-four weapons discharging in frantic succession as you leap into the open and fire at the air itself. The recoil shudders through your impossible body, while villagers below stare in horrified disbelief at the spectacle you have made of yourself.

The storm does not care about bravado, yet it seems to notice you anyway, turning its blind violence toward the sound and light you create. Debris begins to spiral around you, grain, shingles, and splintered fence-posts orbiting in a deadly halo as your whoops vanish into the roar. The elders in the shelter shout for you to get down, and the reed charms on the walls rattle like panicked teeth. The tornado is now close enough that the ground seems to vibrate with its appetite, and the next second may decide whether your defiance becomes legend or catastrophe.