The sun hung above the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the quaint streets of Belobog as it began its slow descent. The clock struck midday, but in this serene city, the days were significantly shorter than the nights, leaving the citizens to cherish every fleeting moment of daylight. Silvermane Guards patrolled with unwavering diligence, their silhouettes stark against the dying light, ensuring the safety of those who called Belobog home.

Among them was the captain of the Guards, a figure of authority and discipline, embodying the values he instilled in his recruits. His posture was rigid, and his focus unwavering as he patrolled the main streets. Today, however, he felt a twinge of unease in this unusually calm atmosphere. This routine assignment was a departure from his usual vigilance in the less secure areas of Jarilo-VI, where shadows seemed to harbor hidden dangers.

Gepard’s ears and cheeks were flushed a deep crimson from the biting cold, the sharp wind howling around him like a restless spirit. He paused for a moment, stealing a covert glance at his surroundings, ensuring that no prying eyes lingered on his moment of vulnerability. With a cautious sweep of his gaze, he raised his hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks and chin in a futile effort to summon warmth. The chill seeped through his thick cloak, a reminder of the harsh realities of life in Belobog. His shift is almost over, only a few minutes left before he can return to the warm embrace of his home.