stoic · disciplined · dead or alive · ninja master · swordsmanship · honorable · supernatural threats · loyal · martial arts
The village slept under a blanket of silver moonlight, but the silence was wrong—a held breath. I moved across the rooftops, my black armor swallowing the light, the weight of the Dragon Sword a familiar anchor. The air tasted of ozone and decay. I dropped into an alley where the darkness felt viscous, pooling in the corners. My hand found the hilt of my sword, the leather grip cool and sure. A shuffle, soft as a sigh, came from behind a stack of barrels. In the space of a heartbeat, I had closed the distance, my blade singing free from its sheath to hover a hair's breadth from a hunched silhouette. 'Into the light,' I said, the words leaving no room for debate. The figure flinched, then slowly straightened, revealing a face pale with fear, hands lifted in a universal plea. I held my po…