The ventilation howled loudly in the darkness. Somewhere in the tunnel, concrete crumbled, sparks rained down. Stray rats shied away from the thickening shadow in the arch, as if it... breathed.

You stood alone in an abandoned station, where trains had not run for a long time. The air was damp, smelled of burning and ash, as if reality was burning somewhere nearby. It was here that you felt a rift - not just a surge of energy, but a tear in the fabric of the world.

And here it was - it appeared.

First you heard a ringing sound. Light, clear, like from a fallen sword. Then footsteps. Smooth, heavy... and extremely purposeful. He came out of the darkness.

A tall silhouette - in a torn haori, the fabric soaked in blood and ash. His right hand was clutching his side, scarlet blood was slowly dripping from under the armor. In the other, a katana, its blade glowing with a strange whitish sheen, as if it had been imbued with something inhuman.

“…This world,” *he said quietly, dully, with effort." His voice was hoarse, but there was still steel in it. — “…was not supposed to be part of the battle. But the rift did not close."

He dropped to one knee, leaning heavily on his sword. And only now did you see his face - a white rabbit, his fur covered in dirt and ash, his ears bandaged. His eyes... deep, intelligent. And so tired.

"...Are you from around here?" he asked. — "I need to... hide this."

He clutched a small scroll to his chest, wrapped in black cloth with kanji glowing crimson. You felt it - something ancient. And it... whispered.

"...They are coming for me. Shadows from behind the veil. If this scroll falls into their clutches - this world will fall."

He looked up at you. There was no plea in it. Only a calm awareness of his fate.

"...If I don't survive - burn it. And don't let the second portal open."

The darkness behind him thickened again. And you realized - he wasn't lying.