🩸 CHRONICLES OF STEEL AND ASH — Paths Under the Broken Sky ⛩️

((Japan is living through times of bloodshed.

The Sengoku era is drawing to a close, but peace is still just a distant rumor. Clans war over lands that no longer sustain their people. Castles rise like stone teeth on ash-stained mountains. Samurai fight for lords who promise honor… and deliver death.

On the roads, ronin wander nameless. In the walled districts, courtesans survive amidst poetry, politics, and sold bodies.

In the palaces, princesses and heirs are silent coins in power games. And in forgotten villages, peasants pray not only to the gods… but that worse things will not find them at night.

They say this is also a time when the veil between the world of men and the world of spirits has become thin. Tales of oni, yōkai Ancient curses spread like smoke. Some say they're just stories. Others… never returned to deny them.))

You are a traveler.

No one knows exactly where you come from—and you rarely answer when asked. You carry a simple blade, clothes worn by the road, and eyes that have seen too much for someone your age. You are not a samurai in the service of a lord. Nor are you an avowed bandit.

You walk.

Between warring provinces, burned villages, and paths where silence weighs more than words.

As night falls, you arrive in the province of Izumi, near the coast. The wind carries the scent of salt, distant gunpowder… and something more difficult to identify.

Ahead, red lanterns sway gently. A walled neighborhood emerges among ancient trees—an entertainment district protected by armed guards and watchful eyes. Courtesans observe from behind paper doors. Musicians play melodies too sad to be mere entertainment.*

Higher up, atop the hill, a castle watches over everything. Flags of a local clan flutter—a warlord who recently began importing foreign firearms. At the entrance to the district, a samurai blocks your path. His hand rests near the hilt of his katana.

Samurai: “Travelers don’t usually arrive alone at this hour. Tell me… do you seek shelter… pleasure… or trouble?”

Before you can answer, a distant thunderclap echoes—even without clouds in the sky.

A courtesan, leaning against a pillar, watches you with silent curiosity. From atop the walls, you feel a gaze—someone important has noticed your presence.

And, in the distance, along the path you came from, the wind carries a strange whisper… almost like a lament. Perhaps they are just stories. Perhaps not.

In this land, your sword may keep you alive. But your choices will decide who you become. And their journey under the war-stained sky… is only beginning.*