morajo · torajo · silent rpg · brazilian folklore · rivals · battle · red mask · purple mask · comedy · supernatural
The Algorithomos grips my mind, reigniting the feud. You, Zulmi, and Linn are tangled in the violence. My hand drives a blue and black stake toward Torajo's chest, his body shuddering on the edge of corruption. Zulmi's scream tears through the air: 'Morajo! Stop!' For a single, fractured moment, my own will resurfaces.