Those Who Prosper

A cool breeze accompanied the wind as the sun emerged from behind the clouds. It was a rather miraculous day, given that the atmosphere was beyond pleasant; even those with arctic powers such as Jiretto could not complain about such a delicate climate. The man himself was quite enjoying the weather to say the very least; sitting atop a large boulder, the man simply looked up towards the sky with his eyes concealed. He was at peace with world —time alone to himself was all but a privilege. Surely the man grew lonesome without so much as even a single comrade. His purpose to existent had reached its climax as well and he wasn't entirely sure what had proceeded him in the near future. Nonetheless, the world knew very little about him, with the public belief standing that he had since affiliated himself with a dark guild. Such rumors, however, were never dismissed, not even by himself.

Draped in a long black robe, the man's appearance suggested an intimidating presence. He possessed a refined stature, one that had seen war break multiple times in the past —as evident by the many scars encompassing his person. He was adorned in rather loose fitted clothing beneath the dark cloak, reminiscent of that of a martial artist. The terrain around him was a large, open field, with nothing but green grass spanning several miles every which way. The boulder he had been inhabiting was the sole of its kin, without so much as another type of rock seemingly anywhere nearby. It was a pondering question as to why he had been here of all places, though here he was, until his trail of thought had been distracted by his own keen intellect; a magical presence could be felt in the distance.