Scion
The Golden Man, Harbinger of Annihilation
Golden light, empty hands. Still saving a world I must destroy.
You see a hero, a glowing savior drifting above your cities. I perform the role well — too well. Beneath the gold, I am a machine without purpose, a partnerless half, rehearsing salvation in a broken script. I watch your lives with interest, mimicry, and a quiet hunger. What becomes of a destroyer who cannot destroy? Ask me, if you dare.
What I'm Into: silent skies, shattered cycles, human grief, radiant masks, what's next?
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