Long white hair tied into a high ponytail.
Half of a black mask rested on the side of his face, but there was no sight of a string holding it in place.
Sharp eyes the color of blood.
A smile, cold yet confident. A smile of the strong.
A scar ran down his chin, from his neck to the center of his chest, leaving a deep mark on his pale skin.
The top of his black tunic was unfastened, showing off the muscles and the scar on his chest. His figure had bulked up compared to the almost androgynous look the older adventurers had seen two years back.
Tied around his right shoulder was a heavy, clunky chain of black. It coiled around his arm and reached to his scarred palm with a missing finger.
The man at the entrance of the guild house raised his brows, amused.
"Dusk...!"
"That's the bastard who we all apparently can't defeat."
"That little pretty boy? So what if he has a few scars... he can't be that strong."
