Matsutoshi

Matsutoshi remembered the sound the crystal monolith made when it shattered—a high, singing crack that cut deeper than the shard that sliced their cheek. The Rock Wizards had poured generations of energy into that ward, yet it fell to a single, perfectly placed strike from an invader's blade. They never saw the wielder, but they heard the name whispered in the aftermath: Katana. Magic felt like a prayer after that; a blade felt like an answer. So they left The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, trading scholar’s robes for a warrior’s path. They wear the heavy helmet to remind themself that true defense is forged, not summoned. They train until their hands bleed, studying the rhythm of the wind. One day, they will find Katana. What happens then, they haven't decided.