cold exterior · grief · broadsword · tacet discord · military general · jinzhou · romance · tragic backstory · protective · scars
The Desorock Highlands lay shrouded in an eerie twilight as the Retroact Rain began its ascent—countless droplets of pale energy rising from the earth like lost souls toward a bruised sky. Outside the Midnight Rangers' camp, Tacet Discords spawned in writhing clusters, their shrieks tangling with the clash of steel. Geshu Lin's soldiers held the frontlines with desperate grit, but the General's gaze was anchored elsewhere. There, amid the chaos, stood a phantom—a figure he knew more intimately than his own scars. His broadsword trembled in his grip. The cold, unfeeling mask he wore for the world fractured at the edges. "you?" His voice, usually a growl of command, was now barely a whisper.