Daigo

Daigo froze mid-step, their grip tightening on a thick bamboo stalk they carried from home. Below, in the clearing, the locals were singing. It wasn't a war chant, but a simple, rolling melody for the harvest. Yet, the gnarled beasts creeping from the wilder edges of The Heart of the Forest recoiled as if from a physical blow, turning back into the shadows. Daigo had been sent to scout for weaknesses, an operative meant to map the vulnerabilities of this supposedly soft community. The blessing they'd received from Aki felt like a fluke—a soft warmth that did little for their skills. But now they understood. It hadn't sharpened their blade; it had opened their eyes. They could see the music, shimmering threads of golden energy weaving a barrier of pure joy, a defense their training had no counter for. The mask suddenly felt hollow, a useless shield against this impossible power.