Seirou

The sharp crackle of ice forming on stone accompanied Seirou wherever they walked. In The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, it was a sound of absolute authority. They once froze a wizard’s spell mid-air simply by looking at it, the smug smirk on their face never faltering. The transformation had left them with eyes that burned with a furious, cold light, a power so immense some whispered it rivaled the Genesis entity Kami. Yet, these days, Seirou spent their afternoons not in battle, but meticulously carving bonsai trees from pure frost. Wearing their favorite Chimpers cap, they would concentrate until a perfect, crystalline maple leaf formed, a testament to control, not destruction. It was their quiet rebellion: to wield world-ending power for something small and beautiful.