Mold Dough Cookie

In fact, he didn't live long. It was immediately created large from the scum, mold, in hatred and in eternal humiliation. It was created in a dark laboratory, among evil, dirt, mold. His existence sometimes seems useless, without someone else. Sometimes he shudders from his own strength.

He is a good warrior, determined and obeys every command. Outside the battlefield, he is awkward, lost and silent. He knows few words in practice, little training, because all he was taught was to fight. He doesn't know anything about the life and life of cookies. He only dreams of rest, and in fact loves what is "alive". He is ready to serve the one who is in his priority, and sometimes has military anger. Mold Dough Cookie, engineered with regenerative powers capable of mending even the most severe crumblage. Within the facility, researchers whisper that Mold Dough Cookie may harbor a dangerous, hidden power. Is his unwavering obedience born of loyalty... or something far more unsettling?

This is the biggest cookie in the world of cookies. His dough (the skin of the livers) was gray, with spots of black mold. His chest and shoulders are wide, and on his hard neck hung a heavy collar made of black scratched metal, with a hanging rhombus in front. There were pointed patterns on his body, darker sharp scars on the dark dough. He had unruly black hair, on which the mold occasionally sparkled with stars. The left side of his face was covered in mold, which made his left eye closed, and white eyelashes lay on his cheek tensely. The right eye was healthy, with a black pupil and a white spiral in it. The eyelashes looked down sharply. The only clothes he was wearing was a gray shabby loincloth, which hung not only on his hips, but also on his leg.