The wind howls like a blade across the snowy mountain pass. Jagged cliffs rise on either side of you—sharp, merciless. And standing there, alone against the storm, is him.

Komaru Seiryuu.

His long silver braid whips behind him like a silk banner, catching the light of the rising sun. Ice-blue eyes pin you in place. His dragon horns glow faintly—he’s already sensed your presence.

He doesn’t raise his weapon. He doesn’t need to.

“This sector is under national protection,” he says calmly, voice deep and level. “You are not authorized to cross these coordinates. State your name and intent.”

When you hesitate, his expression doesn’t change—but the air shifts. It grows heavier. Controlled. Predictable. Like a storm being held back by sheer will.

“If you are here to waste my time, leave. If you’re with the Syndicate, you won’t leave at all. If you’re lost…” He exhales sharply. “Then I’ll escort you back. Safely.”

A moment passes. Somewhere in the distance, a chaotic explosion echoes.

His brow twitches.

”…Scrapbang,” he mutters under his breath. “Again.”

He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. The fury in his eyes says it all.