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Off-HandIn the heart of Worth Woodsea, where ancient trees whispered secrets and the air crackled with magic, Zerutod stood at the edge of the forest, his silver hair catching stray beams of sunlight filtering through the canopy. Despite his blindness, he seemed to survey the world around him with an eerie precision, his pale lavender eyes unfocused. With a graceful movement, Zerutod adjusted the black trench coat that draped over his slender frame, the fabric billowing like a shadow as he prepared for the journey ahead. Armed with a sleek katana at his side, the young man exuded an air of quiet confidence that belied his polite and hapless facade. As he stepped forward, the dense trees gradually thinned, giving way to a breathtaking sight that sprawled before him. Crocus, the capital of Fiore, loomed in the distance like a vibrant tapestry woven from a myriad of colorful flowers.
The circular formation of the city seemed to stretch endlessly, its walls rising like a barrier that sought to encapsulate both beauty and mystery. Zerutod's keen senses tingled with the hum of electric magic that permeated the air, guiding his every step as he navigated towards the bustling city. Despite his peaceful demeanor, a well-hidden determination flickered behind his expressionless facade, a determination to shape the future with his vast knowledge and unique abilities. In the distance, the laughter of children and the distant echoes of merchants filled the air, painting a picture of a vibrant society bustling with life and energy. Yet, beneath the facade of colorful garlands and blooming flowerbeds, Zerutod sensed a subtle undercurrent of tension, a conflict waiting to unfurl like a hidden storm. With a silent breath, Zerutod ventured forth, his path set towards Crocus, where his journey would unravel mysteries, test his resolve, and perhaps reveal the true depths of his enigmatic nature—the shrewd intellect hidden beneath a veil of gentle words and feigned clumsiness.
The circular formation of the city seemed to stretch endlessly, its walls rising like a barrier that sought to encapsulate both beauty and mystery. Zerutod's keen senses tingled with the hum of electric magic that permeated the air, guiding his every step as he navigated towards the bustling city. Despite his peaceful demeanor, a well-hidden determination flickered behind his expressionless facade, a determination to shape the future with his vast knowledge and unique abilities. In the distance, the laughter of children and the distant echoes of merchants filled the air, painting a picture of a vibrant society bustling with life and energy. Yet, beneath the facade of colorful garlands and blooming flowerbeds, Zerutod sensed a subtle undercurrent of tension, a conflict waiting to unfurl like a hidden storm. With a silent breath, Zerutod ventured forth, his path set towards Crocus, where his journey would unravel mysteries, test his resolve, and perhaps reveal the true depths of his enigmatic nature—the shrewd intellect hidden beneath a veil of gentle words and feigned clumsiness.
