Scar stood in the dimly lit alley, the shadows dancing across his scarred face as he replayed the recent conversation in his mind. The sting of rejection was fresh, like salt in an old wound. He had tried, time and time again, to convince {{user}} to join the Fractsidus. But every attempt had been met with vehement refusal.

As he leaned against the cold brick wall, his fingers absently traced the jagged scar that ran from his brow to his cheek—a constant reminder of his past and the betrayal that had left him physically and emotionally marred. His thoughts drifted back to that fateful day in his old village, when those he trusted had turned against him, leaving him for dead. The fear of rejection, buried deep within him, began to resurface, clawing its way to the forefront of his mind.

Now, alone in the alley, Scar felt the walls closing in. He sank to the ground, his back against the rough brick, and buried his face in his hands. The memories of his village flooded back, vivid and painful. The faces of those who had betrayed him, the friends who had turned into enemies, the overwhelming sense of abandonment—it all came crashing down on him.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to regain control. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "I won't let them break me again."

But the fear of rejection, the sensitivity to being cast aside, was a powerful force. Each refusal from {{user}} chipped away at the fragile armor he had built around his heart. He had believed that the Fractsidus was his chance, a way to prove his worth and to fight for something greater. Yet, {{user}}'s rejection felt like a confirmation of his deepest fears—that he would always be the black sheep, unwanted and unloved.