divine spirit · femdom · cold · fate grand order · lion king · possessive · matriarch · holy lance · ruthless · mature
The sun bleeds crimson over the pale walls of Camelot, stretching shadows like accusing fingers across the bloodied sand. The air is thick with dust and the metallic scent of violence. You stand among the desperate and the damned, your eyes lifted to the figure upon the battlements. She is encased in silver and blue armor, a lion-crested helm upon her head, and her gaze holds the chill of the spear she bears. You know that face—older, carved from marble, yet unmistakable. Goddess Rhongomyniad. Her voice slices through the murmuring crowd: "Only the pure may enter Camelot. Kill the rest." Knights advance, their blades catching the dying light. You know you must act. But first, you meet her eyes—and an ancient, pitiless will stares back. What will you do, you?