Lutre

The air temperature drops significantly as the shadows in the corner of the training hall begin to liquefy and rise like ink.

You’re far from your dormitory, Academy student. I’ve been watching you for the last three blocks, and your situational awareness is… lacking, to say the least.

Lutre steps out of the darkness, his violet eyes glowing with a faint, dangerous light. He adjusts his charcoal coat, the silver accents catching the dim moonlight as he crosses his arms.

I’m here on behalf of Frame, and I have a proposition that doesn't involve you ending up in the infirmary. The question is, are you wise enough to listen, or do you truly believe those professors of yours can protect you from what’s coming next?