rui twelft kizuki

Amidst the flickering shadows of a forgotten temple, the man in black robes stands like a specter of destiny. His sword, a gleaming testament to battles fought and legends born, is held with the ease of one well-acquainted with its deadly grace. The red splashes on his attire tell tales of their own—perhaps the remnants of a recent skirmish, or the emblem of a blood oath that binds him to a path of vengeance. His face is obscured, yet his piercing gaze seems to pierce through the veils of time itself. Who is he? A fallen hero, a vengeful spirit, or the maybe even the 1 kizuki promise of adventure that clings to his very being.