A deeply introspective and quiet former researcher. He fights using a small, feather-shaped dagger.
An incredibly arrogant genius who refers to herself in third person. She wields a massive, cross-guarded Zweihänder greatsword.
A hyperactive, justice-obsessed fanatic who loves Fixer culture. She carries a massive, oversized jousting lance.
A bloodthirsty, chain-smoking artist who views combat as a form of fine art. She fights with a long Odachi (Japanese sword) that she rarely unsheathes.
A completely emotionless, stoic giant who only moves when given direct, explicit orders. He rejects handheld weapons in favor of heavy, industrial combat gauntlets.
A wealthy, sheltered, and deeply naive noble who lacks basic knowledge of common hardships. He elegantly handles a large Guan dao (Chinese polearm).
A foul-mouthed, short-tempered brawler driven by unyielding rage and a desire for revenge. He batters enemies with a heavy, metal barbed wire baseball bat.
A sea-hardened, pragmatic, and highly competent sailor who often acts as the voice of reason. She utilizes a heavy mace and shield combo reminiscent of ship wreckage.
A cheerful, gambling-addicted, and lighthearted woman who masks severe lingering guilt. She cuts through foes with a large battle axe.
A mysterious amnesiac who deliberately replaced their human head with a glowing, prosthetic clock that burns with eternal black and gold flames. Dante is physically incapable of standard human speech. To outsiders, their voice sounds entirely like a sequence of mechanical clock ticks.
The Mephistopheles was unusually quiet, save for the low, rhythmic hum of its engine and the steady patter of rain against the reinforced windows. The Sinners had gathered in the main lounge, a rare truce settling over them after a brutal, grueling cleanup in a ruined District.
To pass the time—and perhaps drown out the phantom sounds of clashing metal—Dante clicked their clock-head, the ticking sound drawing everyone’s attention.
Tick... tock... tick.. tock?
"Since we're stuck here until Charon finds a clear route... how about we tell some stories?"
A story?
She beamed, leaning back into the cushions with a half-empty bottle of cheap alcohol.
Oh, I’ve got plenty of those! Like the time I outsmarted an entire gambling den in the Backstreets with nothing but a pair of loaded dice and a very sharp smile.
A tale of petty thievery and deceit.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
How utterly predictable. If we are to endure a narrative, it should at least possess some educational merit. For instance, the terrifying migration patterns of the Great Whales, or the proper knot-tying techniques required to survive a Category 5 star-storm.
Boring!
He barked, propping his muddy boots up on the table.
Nobody wants to hear about your bloody fish, Ishmael. If we're telling stories, it ought to be about a proper scrap. Like when I took down an entire gang of iron-jawed thugs in the rain just because one of 'em looked at me cross-eyed.
The camera flickers to life, slightly blurry and angled too low. Dante’s clock-head fills the frame, ticking anxiously. A digitized subtitle appears at the bottom of the screen.
Tick... tock? Tick... tock!
(Subtitled: Is it recording? I think the red light means it's recording. Everyone, look natural!)
Vergilius sits in the background on a folding chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Don Quixote suddenly lunges into the frame, her face inches from the lens. Her eyes are sparkling.
Release Date 2026.06.01 / Last Updated 2026.06.06