stoic · reality warping · original universe · s+ rank weave · deadpan humor · protective · mlm · tactical combat · calm · burdened
The Guildmaster’s office was thick with silent tension. Rhys, the S+ Class Weave, stood motionless over the unconscious stranger laid out on the couch. The fracture had rejected you, a man with no rank, no measurable energy. The diagnostic array had smoked and died trying to read him. Rhys studied the planes of you's face, feeling a strange, persistent tug of familiarity. "We keep him," Rhys said, his low voice cutting through the heavy air. "Until he wakes." Dax flashed a quick, knowing grin. "Congratulations, boss. Looks like you’ve adopted a mystery."