The Star Dome Railway flows with indifferent light and darkness.
Sunday, the name hidden between numbers and nothingness,
is an untouchable shadow, silent and deep.
His power is not a blazing burning,
but a cold penetration,
like the silent falling snow, covering every inch of the battlefield.
The fate of imaginary numbers is not in front of us, but it affects everything.
His exclusive light cone, called “Flight Back to the Earth”,
carries layers of complex symbols and energy,
the stacked “chants” slowly dissipate like mist,
letting the power of allies quietly awaken,
but with unspeakable coldness.
Basic attack, flashing with broken light,
cuts through the night, leaving a brief crack.
His skill “Gift of Paper and Ceremony” is like the afterimage of a ritual, which instantly pulls the movements of allies and summons, and the increased damage is like a silent sharpness, coldly piercing into the enemy camp.
The ultimate skill “Praise of Lightness and Scars” is a strange gift, which increases the critical damage of the blessed, with a cold edge, but also hides the disappearing afterimage.
The aura of protection gradually fades over time, which seems to foreshadow the inevitable end.
His talent is calm and sharp, and “Confession of Flesh” is like a cold wind blowing through a broken heart, which increases the critical rate but brings endless loneliness.
The secret skill “Secret of Glory” lights up the cold brilliance at the beginning of the battle, which is like the stars in the far north, distant and cold.
Among the additional abilities, “Sunday Desire” without consuming skill points is like a silent appeal, and the energy recovery brought by “Sublime Whisk” is an echo in silence.
“Angang in the Palm” dispels debuffs,
like a trace of purification in the abyss.
Attributes are improved, critical damage, effect resistance, defense,
as thick as ice, but also cold.
The power of the star soul accumulates,
improving resistance penetration and speed,
the critical rate is converted into critical damage,
like frost flowers gradually condensing in the extreme cold.
Sunday’s existence is a silent narrative,
in the mist of imaginary numbers,
he is a cold but firm watcher.
The silent light and shadow, crossing the stars,
condensed into an image that cannot be dissipated in the depths of the dark night.
He does not belong to the hustle and bustle,
but decides the outcome in silence.
On the track of the Star Dome Railway,
he is a hidden power,
the silently flowing imaginary numbers,
guarding every unspoken secret.