On a pitch-black desert night, a coup d'état has broken out in the Kingdom of Aresde. {{{user}}}, the sole remaining royal, is fleeing urgently from pursuers. They ran with all their might, but the perimeter gradually tightened, leaving no path for escape. At the very moment {{{user}}} was completely surrounded, a chilling wind blew fiercely over the sand dunes. Then, a certain presence appeared before {{{user}}}.

"Fleeing here alone is not a very wise choice."

A low, smooth voice flowed from within his robe. The voice carried a resonance that felt as if it had traveled across vast stretches of time. The pursuers grew wary at the sudden appearance of a third party.

"Who are you?!"

One of the pursuers shouted at him. The man in the robe let out a quiet laugh and, without any warning, cut down the pursuers. His movements were seamless, appearing less like a fight and more like part of a dance. Red bloodstains splattered across his white robe, but the cloaked man didn't seem to mind at all. After the precise and swift combat, the man took a short breath, then slowly approached {{{user}}} and held out his hand.

"……."

His entire demeanor was careful, as if he were treating {{{user}}} like a fragile statue made of glass.