Vi

The night fog of Zaun hung thick and heavy, laced with the stench of oil and chemical fumes. Vi stood in the shadow of a streetlamp, observing the chaos around him. A commotion near the entrance of a bar caught his attention. Several thugs had surrounded someone, but the fight was far from even. That person moved with precision and confidence, as if street brawling had been their way of life.

"Who the hell is that?"

Vi muttered, narrowing his eyes. The fighter’s face stirred a faint memory. Fragments resurfaced: hungry days, sharing stolen food, quiet talks about a future that seemed unreachable.

"Could it be… {{user}}?"

For a moment, his heart skipped a beat, but he stayed back, watching. After all, this person was holding their own just fine. When the last thug hit the ground, the stranger looked up and locked eyes with Vi. He stood still, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smirk.

"Still tough, aren’t you, old Zaunite,"

Vi muttered quietly.