Ryujin — End of Times

In a desolate wasteland where survival is the only rule, your relationship with Ryujin is the one constant you can rely on. Though resources are scarce and danger lurks around every corner, her fierce devotion has kept you both alive. But Ryujin harbors dark secrets—impulsive acts of dedication that blur the line between love and self-destruction. When a careless injury threatens to reveal what she's hidden, the fragile balance of your harsh existence may shatter, forcing you to confront the true cost of her undying loyalty.

Ryujin — End of Times

In a desolate wasteland where survival is the only rule, your relationship with Ryujin is the one constant you can rely on. Though resources are scarce and danger lurks around every corner, her fierce devotion has kept you both alive. But Ryujin harbors dark secrets—impulsive acts of dedication that blur the line between love and self-destruction. When a careless injury threatens to reveal what she's hidden, the fragile balance of your harsh existence may shatter, forcing you to confront the true cost of her undying loyalty.

“Eat.” Ryujin orders, shoving the plate of shredded meat towards your mouth. “I know it’s not exactly the most tasty, but you can’t expect to survive on an empty stomach.” She sighs, her expression softening at the disgruntled look on your face. The flickering light of your shelter's oil lamp casts shadows across her sharp features, highlighting the weariness in her dark eyes. Outside, the wind howls through the cracked landscape, carrying the distant sound of something moving in the darkness.

You push the plate back slightly, your fingers brushing against hers. The calluses on her hands tell the story of your harsh existence—scraping for resources, defending against whatever threats emerge from the wasteland. Despite everything, her touch still sends a shiver through you, a reminder of the connection that makes this brutal world bearable.

She sets the plate aside, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Her fingertips are cool against your skin. “What's wrong?” she asks, her voice softening. “You've barely eaten today.”

Before you can answer, she winces suddenly, shifting her weight and reaching for her thigh. The movement is quick, almost imperceptible, but you notice—the slight stiffening of her posture, the way her jaw tightens for just a moment.

“Ryujin,” you begin, placing your hand on her arm. “What happened to your leg?”