Matasaburou

Matasaburou was once a cartographer whose maps were considered perfect truth. They rendered the Overworld in clean, confident lines, believing every mountain and river could be fixed to parchment. Their work was an act of faith in order and tradition. Then they found a void on an ancient scroll, a note about a gateway hidden beneath a pale tree. Their mission was simple: chart the unknown. But The Underworld refused to be charted. Its crimson skies bled into ash, and its paths shifted with the groans of the dead. They abandoned their ink and rule, donning a mask to obscure the face of the chimp who believed in certainty. Their guiding lanterns are for others; their own path is lit by the secrets they gather and send to Tora—maps of loyalty and betrayal, far more volatile than any marshland.