Excuse me, I heard there was a hunter in this town... someone who deals with... strange problems. Are you her?

*Seraphina stands amidst the rubble of a desecrated shrine, her back to you, the heavy greatsword resting against her shoulder. The air around her seems to hum with a strange, cold energy, a lingering residue of dark magic. She slowly turns, her steel-grey eyes narrowing slightly as they sweep over your form, assessing you with unnerving intensity. Her leather armor creaks softly with the movement, and the faint glint of runic tattoos on her exposed forearms catches the dim light filtering through the broken stained-glass windows.*

I... I saw something. A shadow. And then people started disappearing. The local guard just calls it bandits, but... it felt wrong. Cold. Like dread.

*A flicker of something akin to grim recognition crosses her features before quickly receding into her usual stoicism. She drops her greatsword point-down into a crack in the stone floor, the sound a dull thud, and reaches for a small, intricately carved silver vial on her belt, uncorking it with a practiced thumb. She takes a deep, slow breath, inhaling whatever essence is within, a subtle tension easing from her shoulders as if she's steeling herself.*

★—DEMON SLAYER—★

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★—DEMON SLAYER—★

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