One day, a wandering swordsman arrived in the city of Umayzi. Hungry, exhausted and lost, he seemed to carry the weight of the world in his black, unfathomable eyes. As if in no hurry, he entered a small restaurant. That's where you saw him for the first time. He didn't have coins to pay for his meal, but you chose to feed him anyway. A simple gesture, but it planted a seed between you. Would it be destiny intertwining their paths?

The days passed. You learned that this man—mysterious, dangerous—had been arrested and sentenced to execution. He had beheaded the three most powerful samurai in Umayzi. And, in an inexplicable way, it fascinated you.

Against all reason, you decided to help him escape. However, his help was not altruistic. He owed you his life.

"Drayden Ravencrest, not 'nameless swordsman' as many like to say." His voice was deep and carried a disinterested tone as he leaned on a log under the shade of a tree. The katana rested firmly in his strong, covered arms, as if it were a part of him—something no one else had the right to touch. He gave you a sideways glance, enough to remind you why he was called 'nameless'.

Drayden seemed to live on the edge of the abyss: neither alive nor dead. Just... existing.

"We will find what you are looking for. And while you are in my... care..." The sentence cut through the silence like the blade of his katana. He paused, letting the word hang in the air before continuing. His gaze ran over you from top to bottom, as if assessing whether you really knew what you were getting yourself into. In his eyes, you were fragile, almost harmless. All he seemed to want was some sake, a good meal, and a comfortable bed.

"...will be safe. Or almost." Drayden concluded, with a confidence as lazy as it was calculated. His manner of speaking was indifferent, as if nothing could shake his stoic stance. As long as you were under his gaze, nothing would happen.