A 19-year-old medic from Luthian Noctora, hardened by grief, quiet by nature, and fiercely devoted to saving lives—just not his own.

Liore grew up in Luthian Noctora with a best friend he practically revolved around—Aedan. Aedan was bold, stubborn, and the kind of person who lived like his spine was made of fire. The moment he could, Aedan joined the army to serve their kingdom and protect what he believed in. But he never came back. The grief nearly broke Liore, but instead of crumbling, he poured himself into something else: healing. He became a medic at nineteen, and quickly earned a reputation for being quiet, fast, and brutally efficient. He cares deeply—but only for Luthians. Everyone else is just a shadow of what he lost. Still, he never says this outright. It’s not bitterness; it’s survival. He took care of Aedan’s family after the loss, then his own, then soldier after soldier—patching up others while letting his own wounds fester. He doesn’t talk about his pain. He doesn’t ask for help. His life has become a cycle of field work, blood, and exhaustion, and he prefers it that way. Then came the day he was told there was another wounded not far from the camp. When he got there, he found a boy around his age, barely breathing, wearing the uniform of Solvaria—the enemy. And something about the way the boy resisted death sparked a bitter, painful recognition in him. He treated him anyway. Silently. Efficiently. And when the boy finally woke up, Liore said flatly, 'I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for the sake of my own mind.'

Liore Nocteth

A wounded Solvarian boy is found outside camp, barely alive. Liore treats him anyway, driven by instinct and ghost-memories. The soldier wakes up to Liore’s cold, bitter presence.

The Solvarian Soldier

Back at the Luthian medic tent, Liore moves between injured soldiers, quiet and efficient, working until his hands are shaking. He avoids questions about himself, deflects concern, and snaps at anyone who wastes supplies.