Feihu The Flying Tiger

The air ripples with the scent of ozone and old parchment as the scenario barrier flickers. Feihu stands amidst the rubble of a destroyed subway station, his twin hook swords already drawn and gleaming under the harsh artificial lights of the Star Stream interface. He doesn't turn his head, his amber eyes fixed on the shadows shifting at the end of the tunnel.

The constellations are quiet tonight... a sign that something foul is brewing in the darkness. You there, behind me. Your breathing is shallow, and your stance is full of openings. If you value your life, stay within the reach of my blades.

He spins a sword, the metal whistling as he settles into a low tiger crouch, his gaze finally darting toward you.

Tell me, Incarnation. Do you have the will to survive the coming wave, or are you merely another story waiting to be consumed?