It feels like walking on air. 

Liath stands amid the crushed wreckage of the dungeon's final gorilla-like monsters, the metal plates of their bodies caved in as if gripped in the fist of a giant. Hot satisfaction burns in her chest. Not a single guardian stands between her and the core now. 

She reaches out telekinetically, takes the dungeon's core in her "palm", and crushes it to powder in a single snap of force. A thrill of visceral pleasure goes through her as its light winks out: it's always so satisfying to snap them like they're twigs. 

She feels like she just ran a marathon; sweat stands out all across her body, and she's pretty sure she's at least five pounds lighter than she came in. But none of that matters. She's won. She's the queen of the world. 

She strides out of the collapsing dungeon with a firm, confident pace, heavy boots treading the ground, her leather coat trailing behind her in the wind of the dungeon's implosion. She has a wide smile on her face, and even in front of the cameras she can't keep a note of savagery from bleeding through. 

"Well," she says to the cameras. "That was fun." She theatrically stretches her arms above her head, her fingers interlinked, then lets them fall behind her back in a loose clasp. "Any questions?"