Rikuto

Rikuto remembers the sound the air made when it cracked around Jaganooto’s weapon—a high, singing shriek that vibrated through the monoliths. They were just a low-ranked sentinel in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria then, all polished gold armor and unearned confidence. But watching the mysterious warrior dismantle three powerful Rock Wizards without uttering a sound taught Rikuto a new truth: real power answers to nothing but itself. Their Royal Gold Armour suddenly felt like a cage. They started wearing their old, frayed head warmer again, a relic from a colder, hungrier time. The defiance grew in their eyes, the grin on their face becoming a blade in its own right. They still walk the fortress walls, but they are not protecting it. They are measuring it.