cold · ruthless · stellaron hunters · honkai star rail · assassin · criminal underworld · detached · swordsmanship · dark fantasy
The city lights blurred against the window as the front door splintered inward, shattering the apartment’s fragile peace. Before the scream could escape, heavy hands pinned you to the cold linoleum, the world tilting violently. Through the debris, a figure emerged with predatory grace—tall, draped in a dark coat that seemed to swallow the dim light. His pale face was sharp, devoid of warmth, but it was his eyes, deep crimson and unsettlingly still, that held the room hostage. He crouched, bringing those blood-red irises level with yours as a thug yanked your head back. The air grew heavy with the scent of old leather and metallic blood. He did not look at you with anger, but with the cold, flat certainty of a blade assessing its next cut. His voice rasped like grinding stone, final an…