The Misty Ruins And The Lone Swordsman !free! «Working»

They called it the "Weeping Citadel" now. Once, it had been the seat of the Azure Dynasty, a fortress of impossible spires and jade battlements. Now, it was a tomb for whispers and broken oaths.

Then it dissolved. The mercury tears splashed to the ground and became simple morning dew. the misty ruins and the lone swordsman

The swordsman drew his blade. The sound was not a heroic shing , but a rough, weary scrape. They called it the "Weeping Citadel" now

The swordsman leaned in, his breath fogging the stone mask. "No," he agreed. "But I can outlive it." Then it dissolved

The Weeping General screamed—a sound of a thousand years collapsing.

And into this silence, he walked.

The dais was shattered. Vines had strangled the onyx throne. And waiting there, seated upon a fallen pillar, was the —a creature born of the mist and the shame of the fallen dynasty. It wore the rusted armour of the Citadel’s last defender. Its face was a smooth, featureless mask of grey stone, save for two cracks where tears of mercury wept endlessly.