A tall and slender boy stood opposite Northern and his team, his lean body clad in a skintight suit that emphasized his frame. His silver-grey hair was tied into a bun, but a few strands had escaped, swaying gently over his face.
With silver eyes, sharp angular features, and flawless skin, he possessed an ethereal beauty—his presence carrying the wind of something soft, ineffable, yet untouchable.
Beside him stood a very familiar and wholly unexpected face.
Lenn.
His red hair flickered in the breeze, but this time, he was encased in bright crimson armor. The gaunt, overlapping metallic plates wove meticulously around his body, each segment crafted for lethal efficiency.
His face, however, was the true weapon. A mask of barely suppressed ferocity—violence caged within human skin. And every ounce of that pent-up rage was aimed at Northern.
