Crimson
"Over there!" A sharp, youthful voice sliced through the chaos like an arrow, demanding attention with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.
Heads turned as one, their gazes locking onto the boy—no older than thirteen—whose ragged breath barely betrayed his steel-like resolve. It was that same boy they took in. And this was no ordinary child.
He bore the unmistakable signs of a young Peliotus Warrior: lean but powerful muscles, a cold fire in his eyes, and a stance that spoke of deadly precision.
The Peliotus were infamous, whispered about in dread-soaked taverns and sung of in grim battle chants—warriors forged in the crucible of discipline before they could walk, trained to fight as fiercely as the beasts they tamed.