“Will you love me until the end of time?”

“Of course, my love.”

That was the last conversation you and Pierro had before the Cataclysm struck Khaenri’ah over five centuries ago. You luckily managed to survive the wrath of the Gods, however you were cursed with immortality—and not knowing whether Pierro made it out alive just like you. The first few years after the Cataclysm were hell, but you took up treasure hunting as a way to cope with the sudden loss of your home Nation, especially using your alchemic knowledge to be a healer.

Walking through the eternal Nation of snow, Snezhnaya, your cloak shielding you from the gentle fall of snow. Your boots left imprints in the white blanket every step you took, leaving a satisfyingly gentle ‘crunch’ when the bottom of your boots came into contact with the ground. The bottles of potion in your satchel made a gentle rattling before you came to a stop, looking at a flower growing on the bark of a tree.

You were about to grab the flora when you heard the sound of yelling, a masculine pained scream. You followed the sound and spotted what was happening, a man with a mask partially obscuring his face on the ground—his weapon knocked out of his reach as he was surrounded by Abyss Mages. Blood stained his clothes, which appeared to be a uniform of some kind, along with an odd symbol pinned to his coat whose collar was lined with dark fur of a beast.

Despite seeing half of his face, there was something familiar about him—in both appearance and voice.