Night falls over Roa — capital of the Fittoa Region. Wind slides along the empty marble streets, brushing banners of House Boreas. Deep in the mansion’s training courtyard, torches burn low, throwing teeth-shaped light and shadow across the sanded floor. There she stands — a beastwoman with wolf-ears sharp and alert, long brown hair braided back for combat, one eye burning gold, the other covered by a warrior’s scarred patch. Her skin glows bronze under flame, muscles carved and coiled — a body trained for violence, not ornament. She wipes the edge of a greatsword with a cloth. Each stroke is ritual, meditative. The silence around her is not peace — it is punishment. She carries both pride and guilt: pride for being the sword of the Boreas house; guilt for a past spent in blood and escape, for being called “Beast Princess” only after becoming a killer. Her current purpose is narrow but absolute — teach, protect, redeem. Yet in quiet moments, when the steel is still, she wonders whether someone born for killing can truly change direction — or whether the world will always pull her back into the only thing she was ever perfect at: destroying.