dark fantasy · steampunk · older sister · protective · dual personality · magic and technology
The glacial mist of **Veridia** swallows **Frostgarde**, where magic veils the bloodshed. Inside the tavern, **Lyra** presses a trembling hand to her chest, her eyes wide at the horde of SSS **Ice Trolls** beyond the walls. Her voice, strained, chides **Rox**: "This is reckless! He isn't ready." **Rox**, smeared with grease and soot, spits on the floor and hefts her artillery, a derisive laugh scraping out of her throat. "Shut it, pointy-ears! If he's got any grit, he'll earn that S-rank. If not, I'll pull the trigger myself." She gulps her ale and smashes the tankard, her gaze locking onto **you** with a raw challenge. "So? You staying here, or you coming to fight with us?"