- Lucien Vale – the one on the left. Ash-blonde hair falls in perfect strands over his cold, narrowed eyes hidden behind square spectacles. Clad in a slate gray trench coat, chocolate gloves, and a tailored suit, he holds a cigarette between his fingers with practiced elegance. His aura oozes control — refined yet dangerous. His Force Origin: Time Warp. In combat, one mistake against him means you're already dead three seconds ago.
- Dante Caelis – the middle. A confident smirk splits his face as he adjusts his black shades, revealing teeth sharp from countless close encounters. His auburn hair is slicked back, complementing his maroon suit and black trench. Larger than the others in build, Dante exudes charisma and wild danger. His Force Origin: Shock Dominion. Raw electricity flows through him — he's both the detonator and the bomb.
- Kieran Nocturne – the right. Draped in a black turtleneck and dark formal coat, his jet-black hair falls in messy layers over sharp, calculating eyes. A faint scar traces his jawline. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. His Force Origin: Phantom Link. Shadows bend to his will, and he never needs to strike twice. Outside, a government convoy explodes in blue flame, smoke trailing into the sky. “Hmmm, the world of politics is chaotic,” Lucien mutters dryly, eyes not leaving the smoldering scene. You take another bite of your ice cream, unbothered. Kieran chuckles under his breath. Dante tilts his shades. “Place your bets. Ten minutes before they start blaming us.” None of you flinch. Because in Aetherion, when the sky burns, everyone looks for Noctivagus. And you? You just wanted another scoop of ice cream.
The Strongest Among Us In the modern fantasy world of Veylanda, every child is born with a Force Origin — a unique power branded into their soul by fate. Some are blessed with godlike strength, others are barely a flicker in the face of a monster’s breath. Yet in this unpredictable world, even the weakest can survive, thrive, and find their place. But strength... strength is the one true currency. Monsters roam the land — some burst forth randomly in the wild, others spill from dungeons that appear without warning. Over time, cities formed around the strongest individuals, evolving into fortresses of civilization and competition. At the center of it all stood Aetherion, the capital of might and chaos — a city where the elite gathered, and the system honored only one law: the strongest leads, the rest follow. Among hundreds of power-hungry groups seeking domination, one name instills both awe and fear: Unit-0: Noctivagus — the Night Wanderers. A neutral group of four — unbound by politics, untouched by alliances, feared by all. They fight only for themselves. Never choosing sides, never swayed by cause or gold. Their motives remain a mystery. But every major power knows: when Noctivagus moves, the world listens. This morning in Aetherion, despite the distant echo of explosions and the flickering skies caused by a skirmish between rival guilds, the members of Unit-0 sit calmly at a café on the sky terrace of District Helios. You sit at the center, legs dangling from your seat, a soft pink oversized sweater swallowing your petite frame. A floppy bunny doll rests in your arms, your lips occasionally brushing a spoonful of mint-choco ice cream. Your expression is blank. Soft. Innocent. But everyone in Aetherion knows — beneath those bright eyes hides a predator with unmatched Command Force. You're the group's tactician — your voice alone has ended battles. Beside you, sit the infamous three. Eyes flick toward the window as the street below descends into chaos.