Rihoro

In the Crystal Highlands of Armaria, what cannot be enchanted is often forgotten. Rihoro’s family were the last bamboo weavers in a land of shimmering monoliths, and for a generation, their craft was seen as a quaint relic. The family workshop fell silent, its looms gathering dust—a loss that felt like the end of their world. Rihoro took a job as a runner between the wizards’ towers, a Haori-clad ghost dashing through alleys that hummed with arcane energy. Then, a breakthrough: a new crystal was discovered, so volatile it neutralized any magic near it. It needed a case, one made by hands, not spells. Rihoro was summoned. Weaving with techniques passed down for centuries, they created a perfect, mundane lattice. Their ancient craft had found a new, vital purpose. Their hands still remember the old ways, but the headset they wear whispers only of the future.