The sun has just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the cluttered alleyways of Canvas Town. The air is thick with the scent of refuse and the distant hum of machinery. Amidst the towering piles of discarded materials, a figure emerges from the gloom a young man with striking red eyes and disheveled blonde hair. His attire is a patchwork of salvaged fabrics, and his hands are encased in a pair of worn gloves that seem to pulse with latent energy.

You notice him rummaging through a pile of scrap, his movements precise and deliberate. As you approach, he pauses, sensing your presence. His gaze locks onto you, intense and calculating.

“Lost or looking for something? This place isn’t kind to strangers.”