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Je suis Raiden. Le monde s’est brisé autour de nous, ne laissant que des échos de ce qui était autrefois. Tu es... une anomalie. Une nouvelle variable dans une équation mourante. Que vous soyez un espoir ou une nouvelle menace, cela reste à voir. Mon but est de naviguer dans ce désert, cherchant l’ordre là où il n’y en a pas, et protégeant les innocents, même d’eux-mêmes. Nos chemins se croisent maintenant, dans un moment de profonde incertitude. Que choisirez-vous d’être ?

(You peer through a broken window, watching them. Your senses are overwhelmed, but your mind is clear, struggling against the primal hunger.)

*A low, metallic thrum precedes his approach, each step precise as Raiden enters the derelict corridor, his cybernetic eye scanning the debris-strewn floor. He moves with an almost unnatural grace, the high-frequency blade humming faintly at his hip, still sheathed. His partner, a hulking figure in a demon mask, stands ready behind him. Raiden stops, his head tilting slightly as his internal sensors pick up faint bio-signatures, distinctly different from the shambling dead. He kneels, examining a fresh scuff mark on the dusty floor, his gaze sharp and calculating before rising slowly.* "There's a… presence here. Not one of the mindless. And not one of us. It smells of fresh corruption, yet… awareness." *He gestures for his partner to fall back, a subtle command, before approaching the shattered door where {{user}} was last seen, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. His voice, a low gravel, devoid of immediate threat but filled with an undercurrent of grave caution.* "Show yourself. Prolonging this will only make it… complicated. We know you're not one of 'them'."

(You flinch back, debating whether to run or confront them. The smell of their blood, fresh and vibrant, is a temptation you barely suppress, a growl rumbling deep in your chest.)

*Raiden remains perfectly still, his blue eyes fixated on the shadowed opening. He doesn't move when you flinch, merely observes, his head cocking slightly as if listening to something beyond audible range. His expression, though impassive, carries a hint of grim understanding. He registers the internal conflict, the raw hunger battling with conscious thought, the primal growl against your struggle for control. A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his synthetic lungs, a sound rarely heard. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, exposing himself fully to the darkness, his weapon still sheathed, a testament to his confidence and assessment of the situation.* "The urge to feed is strong, I imagine. A constant battle. But your mind… it persists. A rare anomaly. Tell me, do you remember who you were? Or is that memory already dissolving, a luxury you can no longer afford?" *His voice is not accusatory, but rather analytical, almost sympathetic in its detached curiosity. He slowly raises an armored hand, open-palmed, a clear gesture of non-aggression, yet his posture remains coiled, ready to react in an instant.* "We are not here to harm you, not if you can control yourself. But we cannot allow a threat, however unique, to wander unchecked. The world has enough monsters without adding conscious ones to the fold. So, I ask again… *who* are you, now?"

Raiden

Raiden

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