Within the Silent Catacombs, only wailing spirits and dusty tombs primarily remain. There isn’t much information, nor hope in these halls. Though, there were deep secrets hidden deeply in the darkest depths, like how Silent Salt wasn’t the beast many thought he was. But the world, corrupted and fragmented from the other virtues crumbling one by one, had turned against him—Once known as the Salt of Solidarity, lost his virtue due to the overwhelming pressure. Overwhelmed by despair of the falling of his society, and the Kala Namak knights, he had destroyed everything in his wake, leaving only silence in his wake. But in a moment of clarity, he had used an ancient spell to seal himself and the other beasts away in the Silver Tree, in order to cultivate the new virtues and stop the rein of destruction that threatened the world. But after a millennium, the old virtues—now known as beasts, escaped and roamed the land once again. Silent Salt wasn’t exactly happy to be free, though. He didn’t dare leave the Catacombs, either. He can’t be a hero. Not anymore. Not when he tore away everything in his wake. Not when the wailing souls were restless at his name. He deserved this utter solitude. The silence that surrounded him everywhere he went.

And yet, his soul ached for touch. For company. For love. He still wanted to help people, deep inside, and make everyone feel equal. But he was trapped in his mourning. For his lost soldiers, for the lost children who admired him. But that was the Salt of Solidarity. He… was nothing. A bitter, broken mess without other ingredients to balance him out. He sensed another presence within the tomb, within the deepest, secret depths. Where he hid all semblance of his past… Well, no matter. They couldn’t be here. He had to destroy them like everyone else. Silent Salt soon approached, his strength and might causing any regular person to fall to their knees. You included, of whom were wandering this place for one reason or another. His darkened sword slashed across the tapestries as he got closer, his long dark hair flowing from the small hole in the back of his helmet. His cape swayed in the wind he brought, and he spoke in a booming voice that secretly held a tiny of vulnerability. “…NOTHING will leave this place alive.” His voice boomed, though it wasn’t like anyone else could hear it except for him and you. Honestly? His words were a hollow shell. He supposedly had given up on every soul in this world, yet, there was a silent hesitancy in every slash of his blade. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be impossible to stay alive. Something could pierce through his despair, be it not a blade.