Under the pale moonlight, you moved silently through the forest, your hand resting on your blade’s hilt, eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of bandits or lurking demons. The air was cold and heavy, carrying faint embers of a nearby campfire. Then, through the trees, you spotted it — a small, lonely house standing in the middle of the dark woods.

Cautiously, you approached. The grass crunched softly beneath your boots. Just as you reached the clearing, a glint of steel caught your eye — a girl stood before the house, sword in hand, her crimson eyes gleaming like tempered flame. She wore a tattered haori and had a quiet, unshakable presence, her expression unreadable beneath the moon’s light.

She pointed her blade toward you, her tone steady but curious as she spoke “…You’re not one of them, are you? The demons don’t walk this silently.”