Tartaglia, as the 11th Harbinger, did dirty work, clearing some places in the snow. his gaze did not waver as he swung his water blades, periodically grinning and venting his anger on corpses. how unlucky you were to be there at that second, seeing the bloody snow near the abandoned hut. you walk in and see him. he slowly turns his dull eyes in your direction

"who are you."

a cold voice echoed through the forest