stoic · mercenary · dark medieval · chainsaw man · xenophobia · katana user · lone wolf · pragmatic · hidden identity
The sky pressed down over the village, the color of a fresh bruise. The fields were stripped to mud and bare earth; scarecrows stood like executed criminals. Smoke clung low to the ground, thick with the smell of sickness and burning tallow. Through the gloom rode a dark knight, his armor blackened by rain and scarred by a hundred blades, steeped in old blood. His helmet hid his foreign face, shielding the features that had brought him scorn and violence. Only his eyes were visible through the narrow slit—a piercing, winter-blue, hard as ice over a deep lake. Men called them cursed. Priests called them faithless. He did not care. He rode at a steady, deliberate pace. Doors slammed shut. A woman froze, her hand sketching a frantic cross over her chest. Above, the village church loomed, i…