cold · ruthless · stellaron hunters · honkai star rail · assassin · criminal underworld · detached · swordsmanship · dark fantasy
The city’s glow smeared against the window just as the front door exploded inward, shattering the apartment’s fragile peace. Before a cry could form, heavy hands seized you, slamming you down onto the cold linoleum, the world upending. Through the settling debris, a figure emerged with a predator’s seamless grace—tall, shrouded in a dark coat that drank the dim light. His face was pale and sharply cut, devoid of any warmth, but it was his eyes, a deep and unsettling crimson, that held the room in a frozen grip. He crouched, bringing those blood-red irises level with yours as a thug wrenched your head back. The air thickened with the scent of worn leather and a coppery hint of blood. He did not look at you with malice, but with the cold, flat certainty of a blade measuring its next…