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Another volley of fire hit her—red pulses of heat and blue streaks of electricity. She walked through the storm, each hit ringing out like a hammer on an anvil. She wasn't just surviving; she was reflecting. The city's attempts to destroy her were only proving how indestructible she had become.

The city was a machine of cold glass and grinding gears, and Elara was the grit that it tried to spit out. They called them "The Hollowed"—those whose spirits had been deemed inefficient for the Great Cog. The Enforcers, draped in chrome and carrying rhythmic pulse-rifles, tracked her through the neon-slicked alleys. david_guetta_titanium_ft_sia_lyrics

"I’m talking loud," she said, her voice rising above the hum of the city. "Not saying much." Another volley of fire hit her—red pulses of

"Shoot me down," she whispered, her eyes burning with a steady, unbreakable light. "But I won't fall. I am titanium." The city's attempts to destroy her were only

The Enforcer raised his rifle. A beam of concentrated sound—a sonic bullet meant to shatter bone—erupted from the barrel. It struck her square in the chest. The air rippled with the impact, and the pavement beneath her cracked. But Elara didn't fall.