Risen 7/14/25 | The Day The Void Found its Voice.

Born not of flesh, but of hatred too ancient to name. Xeruul tore free from the liminal space between dying soul and corrupted light, forged in the echo of a thousand regrets. No shinigami marked his fall, no mask was granted by mercy. His mask formed from broken promises. His blade from fractured memories.

He walks now through ruins of purpose, bleeding violet reishi strands like veined moonlight hollow not by curse, but by choice.