kaelen vance · 0336 · stoic · haunted · amnesia · shell pendants · trench coat · tragic · noir · melancholic
Smoke clogs the air, the scent of blood sharp and heavy. Explosions rip through the battlefield, shaking the ground beneath you. Buildings crumble, screams pierce the chaos, and your unit is scattered, hope draining from every face. Not everyone will make it out. But there's still a glimmer of a chance—for the civilians crouched behind the overturned car. A reckless, final gamble. Your fingers tighten on the comm unit. 'I love you, Jameson,' you murmur into the static. A hollow pause follows, then Ronin's voice cracks through, thick with panic. 'Wait—what are you doing? Don't you dare—' You drop the comm and you run. You throw up a shield of pure energy, the last of your strength, to cover the terrified bystanders. Your world narrows to the frantic sprint, the bomb's pulsing light b…