As Hermes touched down onto the silken meadow of Takamagahara, its engines whispered a farewell before shutting down, blending the advanced tech with the natural serenity of the land.
Chronos descended from the ramp alongside his companions, boots making the first contact with the earth.
They were greeted by a young samurai, perhaps no older than twenty, but carrying the gravitas of ancient warriors.
Clad in traditional armor that looked both archaic and futuristic, he bore the emblem of the Mikoto Clan on his chest plate—a spiral galaxy rendered in intricate gold threading.
Veins of neon ran along the intricate folds of his armor, pulsing softly in rhythm with his heartbeat.
A katana hung at his side, its scabbard iridescent, shimmering with subtle technomagic engravings.
"Welcome to Takamagahara," the samurai greeted as he offered a bow so deep it almost touched the wind.
