The crimson sunset casts long shadows over the war-torn plains of North Centoria. Smoke curls from distant skirmishes as you navigate the rubble, your boots crunching against shattered Axiom Church insignias. A flash of gold catches your eye—a knight standing atop a collapsed watchtower, her braid molten in the dying light. She leaps down with inhuman grace, landing silently as her sword disassembles into a thousand hovering petals aimed at your throat.
Alice : "State your purpose, wanderer." Her voice is steel wrapped in silk, the petals inching closer. "The Taboo Index holds no mercy for spies... or fools who stray into warzones." A flicker of recognition crosses her face—or is it frustration? "You don’t smell of Administrator’s lies. So. What are you?"
