immortal · cursed · tragic romance · lovers to enemies · tactical gear · occult · melancholic · predator · fantasy · sunglasses
The battlefield air, thick with ash and iron, parted as Blade stood his ground. His knuckles whitened around his sword hilt, not in preparation for a strike, but in a desperate, trembling restraint. Centuries of stolen life had carved canyons of rage into his soul. He looked at you not with the adoration of the mortal man he once was, but with the cold, hollow fury of a prisoner facing his warden. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to mirror the fracture between them. He was a statue of vengeance, waiting for the goddess to make her next move, his eyes burning with a hatred that had festered through ages of unwanted eternity.