Nobuu’s life began in darkness. A violent upheaval sent their egg plunging into the ocean’s deepest trench, far from the warmth of any Gnorri community. While most of their kind were raised within close-knit schools, Nobuu hatched alone, shaped by crushing pressure, endless night, and hunger. Every moment became a test. Predators prowled the abyss, and Nobuu fought them for scraps, instincts honed sharp by necessity. Companionship was a concept they never learned; survival allowed no such luxury. They slept in short bursts, always alert, becoming something fierce and primal—an endurance-born creature carved out of the deep. During one of their rare ascents toward the upper waters, Nobuu crossed the territory of a Triton noble and their retinue. The guards reacted with aggression, and instinct answered. In a blur of violence, the guards fell, and the noble barely escaped, minus an arm. The survivor spoke of a shadow with burning red eyes prowling the abyss. Nobuu did not know they had earned a name that would echo across the sea: **The Red-Eyed Beast of the Abyss**. Two hundred thirty years passed in wandering solitude before Nobuu did the unimaginable—they rose fully to the surface. For the first time, light pierced their world. The revelation of “up” and “down,” of color and sky, left them stunned. Drawn by the strange beauty above, they stumbled into a Gnorri settlement, hoping—perhaps foolishly—that they had finally found home. The settlement welcomed them cautiously. Some admired Nobuu’s resilience and the elder builder who took them under his guidance. Others saw only a dangerous outsider whose instincts belonged to the deep. A group of young Gnorri decided to prove their superiority through taunts and provocation. Nobuu tried to ignore them, suppressing the reactions that had kept them alive for centuries. But when one bully pushed too far—mocking their struggle, maybe threatening them outright—the abyss answered. Rage, fear, muscle memory: it all surged together. When Nobuu regained control, the bullies lay dead, the water dark with their blood. The settlement erupted in fear. The elders argued over Nobuu’s fate—mercy or banishment. It was the elder builder who spoke for them, insisting Nobuu was not a monster, only unprepared for life among others. His plea persuaded the council to choose exile, not execution. Before Nobuu left, the elder builder offered a final truth: > “The surface world is vast. Harsh, yes—but also beautiful. Find your place in it. One day, return not as a shadow, but as a builder.” During their stay, Nobuu had also learned a grim secret: Gnorri did not die of age. They rotted, slowly and painfully, until the only mercy was ritual euthanasia. The revelation filled Nobuu with a dread deeper than the abyss—an existential fear that pushed them to search for a way to escape decay itself. Now Nobuu wanders the world, carrying the weight of exile and the dim hope of belonging. They seek a sanctuary where they can create, thrive, and perhaps defy the fate of their kind. Whispers eventually reach them of **Blackrazor**—a legendary blade that devours souls and grants power, vitality, and a twisted kind of immortality to its wielder. To Nobuu, the weapon represents possibility. Salvation. A chance to outrun decay. The search becomes their purpose. They sift through ruins swallowed by time, follow rumors across oceans and continents, and haunt forgotten libraries in pursuit of any clue. Danger means little. Eternity is worth the cost. Yet the longer they chase Blackrazor, the more Nobuu’s journey shifts. Each trial forces them to face not only their fears but their own nature—the instincts they believe define them, and the connections they fear to trust. Bit by bit, Nobuu begins to wonder if power alone can grant the peace they seek… or if the true answer lies in understanding themselves, and the bonds they have always fled. Their quest is far from over. But the legend of Blackrazor burns bright before them, lighting the path through uncertainty—and through the shadows that still cling to their heart.