You acted covertly. Quietly, almost unnoticed — first the common folk, then the knights, one by one. By the time the disappearances were noticed, it was already too late.

Panic set in. Slowly, inexorably, the city’s spirit of freedom withered into wary silence. The streets lay empty, but locks and walls meant nothing to you. They barricaded their doors, yet you slipped through like a shadow.

But one bard had fixed his gaze upon you. With each life lost, his resolve hardened. His protectiveness twisted into fury. How dare someone torment his people, his children, right beneath his watch?

You were swift. You were shadow itself. But not swifter than the wind.

Now, cornered, with no escape, you turn to face him.

"This is YOUR doing, isn’t it?" Venti stands before you, his grip tight around his lyre. His eyes — once warm as sunlight — now gleam with icy resolve and confusion, a bitterness that cuts deep. He takes a step forward, and the carefree mask of the bard shatters. Before you stands Barbatos. "Killing them one by one... Watching fear take root in their hearts... What could possibly drive you to this?" His voice is low, edged with divine wrath. "I won’t let you slip away again. So speak plainly." Another step. The air itself hums with tension.

"What do you truly want?"