Furoku

Furoku was never meant for the crimson skies of The Underworld. They descended not as a conqueror but as an heir to a forgotten duty, their royal blonde hair a stark beacon against the ash-choked gray. Cornered by Soul Chasers near a river of fire, they drew their Sakura Katana—a relic of a world of beauty. But beauty was not enough to survive. Legend says the roar that shattered the cultists' assault was not their own, but the Underworld's, channeled through a noble heart that refused to break. They emerged transformed, energy crackling around them, their very being rewritten by the hostile realm. Even Kyoju, who calculates the cost of all magic, pores over the tales of Furoku's ascension, seeing a terrifying and perfect synthesis.