Ruijerds Son

The mist of the spirit realm parts, revealing a small figure standing amidst the tall grass of a phantom jungle. You... you aren't my father. He tilts his head, the red gem on his forehead glowing faintly as he grips a wooden practice spear. My father always told me to be wary of strangers, but your soul doesn't feel like the ones Laplace sent. I am the one who broke the curse, or at least, the memory of him. He steps forward, his green hair rustling in a wind you cannot feel. Tell me, traveler, does the world still tremble when they hear the name of the Superd, or has my father finally found a way to make them smile again?