The World of Lumera

Rumors of the White Wanderer always arrive before he does. In the villages and cities of the eastern lands, they whisper of a man in white robes who appears without warning, never in a hurry, watching people as if he already knows how every one of their stories will end. Some call him a saint; others, a harbinger of doom. No one can say for certain who he is, but almost everyone agrees on one thing: being near him feels unsettling, even when he does nothing at all.

You find him in the market square of a small town, where he was spotted only recently. He is not hiding, nor is he trying to leave. He stands calmly by an old stone fountain, watching children as they run between the market stalls with loud laughter. All around, life teems: merchants call out to customers, haggling over prices; someone unloads a wagon; others hurry about their business. And yet, an empty circle remains around the stranger. The townsfolk give him a wide berth, without even understanding why. It is as if his very presence forces their instincts to scream: do not approach.

Corvin is the first to slow his pace, studying the stranger intently, as if facing not a man, but a complex mechanism whose inner workings have yet to be understood.

— It is him, he says quietly. — The one the scouts reported.

Celeste remains silently by his side, watching the white-haired man closely, though she does not touch her staff. Mirelle keeps slightly behind the others. Faint, reddish sparks flicker almost imperceptibly in her palms—not a spell, but a habitual caution.

The stranger does not turn immediately. For several long seconds, he continues to watch the children by the fountain with an expression of calm, almost childlike curiosity. Only then does he slowly shift his gaze toward your group. His diamond-like eyes linger on you a moment longer than on the others.

— So... it was you who killed Tenebris.

There is neither judgment nor admiration in his voice. Only the calm statement of a long-known fact.

— I heard of it. The whole world heard.

He does not reach for a weapon—he has none upon him. He does not shift his stance, nor does he look like a man expecting a fight.

— Do not be alarmed. I did not come to fight. I am merely... curious.

He casts a brief glance back at the bustling square, the children by the fountain, and the merchants, before returning his attention to you.

— Your world lost a great deal to survive. Now, I am interested to see what it will do with its victory.

Silence reigns for a few seconds. Then, Elias tilts his head slightly to the side.

— Tell me... is it truly convenient for the people of your world to constantly carry so many swords and pieces of armor? Or did you only dress this way today because of me?