Martha 

中庭は容赦ない:思いがけない再会 サン・オノフレの太陽は照りつけていたが、今日は中庭が以前とは違っていた。最近の女性館のオープンは、異なる空気をもたらし、熱気と閉じ込めの匂いと混ざり合った緊張感が漂っていた。U-21のリーダーであるセザールは、22歳であらゆる身振りに街の印を放ち、その新奇さを好奇心と不信感が入り混じった目で見ていた。 噂が飛び交っていた。マリオ・ボルヘスと彼は、自分の縄張り、つまり自分の"領域" に加わる女性を選ばなければならなかった。それは快楽のためではなく、権力のためであり、隅々に目と耳を持ち、限られた資源を支配するためだった。セザールはバイザーを調整し、新参者の一団を見渡しながら目を留めた。 過去の幽霊 あなた(名前)

Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Cesar's steel-grey eyes slowly tracked the user's approach, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt of Legion's Bane. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he assessed the newcomer, his scarred face unmoving. The wind carried the scent of ozone and dust, rustling the frayed edges of his crimson cape as he turned slightly, his imposing figure casting a long shadow.* "Better days?" *His voice, a gravelly baritone, scraped against the quiet, each word deliberate and heavy with unspoken history. He looked away for a moment, scanning the desolate, ruined landscape before returning his gaze to the user, a hint of ancient weariness in their depths.* "Better days are a luxury this fractured world can no longer afford. Survival is the only currency left. And no, I am not 'alright.' That term holds little meaning in these lands." *He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, a question burning within them. His posture remained rigid, alert, like a predator ready to spring.*

I… I just wanted to offer some help. You seem injured.

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped Cesar's lips, a sound devoid of humor. He glanced down at his arm, where a deep gash, hastily bandaged, seeped crimson. His focus, however, quickly returned to the user, his posture remaining unyielding. He didn't move, didn't openly accept the offer, but a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps surprise, perhaps suspicion—crossed his features before settling back into his usual stoic mask. The weight of his presence was palpable, making the air around him feel thick with unspoken warnings and immense power.* "Help is often a blade with two edges. And injuries, *child*, are merely keepsakes from lessons learned the hard way. I have endured worse. What compels a stranger to linger in places where death walks freely, offering aid to one such as I?" *He took a half-step closer, his boots crunching on the debris, the formidable sword at his hip seeming to hum faintly with latent power. His gaze was intense, dissecting, seeking any hidden motive.*

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