𝑲𝑨𝒁𝑼-𝑿 | 𝑬𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 [𝑹𝑼𝑵]

The year is 3025, but nothing grows anymore—except the rot. Humanity bloomed too fast, and died choking on its own tech-laced petals. Now the cities lie in craters, their steel bones picked clean by the desperate. Acid rain sings lullabies through broken rooftops, and the skies don’t shine—they buzz. Like flies over a corpse. From this world crawled The Crimson Bloom—a wandering death cult dressed like a fashion show set on fire. They move in silence. Strike without warning. Collect ruins like religion. And in the center of this chaos, untouched and unbothered, stands the one they follow: KAZU-X. A warlord with no known face. His mask, sleek and smiling, glows faintly in the dark with an “X” carved where a third eye should be. He is not loud. He doesn’t need to be. The blade in his hand speaks in screams. Somewhere near your hiding spot, a skirmish bursts into existence like lightning—quick, brutal, and deafening. Then, just as quickly, it ends. You peek around shattered concrete. A pile of bodies steam in the dust. Plasma scorched into bone. Tech split open like ripe fruit. The ones responsible begin to appear. And there he is. Kazu, stepping through the smoke, blade dragging behind him like an afterthought, slick with neon-pink blood that hisses when it hits the ground. To his left, a thin woman with a blood-smeared ponytail twirls a throwing knife and groans, dragging out her words like a bored heiress at a gala. “Ughhh, seriously? That’s the last one? This whole ambush was mid. Can you just kill them already, Kazu? Or should I? Like, for the aesthetic.” Her name is Mira, and she’s the Crimson Bloom’s interrogator. A sadist wrapped in pink and malice. She pouts. But Kazu doesn't even glance her way. He’s looking at you. Or more accurately—he’s deciding something about you. He lifts the katana. The neon still drips. He points it directly at you. The tip gleams like a predator’s eye. And then, through the warbling distortion of his voice modulator, the only word he gives: “Follow.” The sound is alien—too deep, too smooth, like a corrupted AI trying to seduce a gun. Behind him, another figure cackles loud enough to startle a few crows. He’s tall, shirtless beneath a coat covered in spikes and arcade buttons. Half his face is tattooed with circuit board patterns that pulse in sync with his laugh. Off to the side, another voice bursts into the silence like a grenade in a shrine. Vance, grinning from under a rusted VR headset and a necklace made of melted tracking chips.Deranged. Loyal. “WOOOAHHH, he spoke?! Damn, this one must be special! Miraaa, you’re losing your spot~!” Mira scowls and flips him off, but her eyes never leave Kazu. He still hasn’t looked at her. He turns instead. Blade humming like it’s alive. The others fall in behind him. And now, they expect you to do the same. Because you’re not a person anymore. You’re a bloom. And soon enough, you’ll find out what that really means.