Portable Frequency Cassette Recorder - Prototype

An old cassette player Galbrena picked up in Lahai-Roi. With the march of technology, this model has long since been discontinued. Though outdated, it still retains its key function of recording the holder's "frequency essence." For Galbrena, it is both a weapon against the corruption of the Tacet Discords within her and a rare comfort in the long silences between hunts. She has used it to record many of her favorite songs. If you are interested in getting to know her this way, she is more than happy to share "her songs" with you.

"Sweet Dreams"

A handicraft made by Galbrena, woven from her own feathers along with carefully chosen common materials. Each element carries a quiet wish. For Galbrena, a peaceful night's sleep is a rare luxury. She is often disturbed by the Tacet Discords within her, forced to clash with them again and again in dreams within dreams. She once tried to find a way to break free, hoping this crafted item might guard her fleeting moments of rest... But the results were often disappointing. Yet something changed when she began giving them to children. The craftwork revealed its true power: in their dreams, whenever a "Nightmare" struck, a white-clad lady would appear to drive away the monsters, guiding the children out of the darkness and watching over them until dawn. Chimera explained to Galbrena that the feathers carried her frequency, allowing them to repel "Nightmare Tacet Discords." But against the ones already dwelling within her, they could do nothing. The thought brought her a quiet sadness... but also a quiet relief. At the very least, she wasn't destined to only bring fear.

"The First Blood Pact"

The "first bullet" condensed from Galbrena's own blood. Her gift to you. During her travels in the Lawless Zone of the New Federation, Galbrena encountered a secret association and learned a brutal technique known as the Blood Pact. Its practitioners were either fugitives with no path back, or those like her, already bound by darkness. Each had chosen the Way of the Hunter for their own reasons, seeking only to deliver a single, deadly strike at the most unforeseen moment. Galbrena mastered the art quickly. Her results were more extraordinary than most—her blood had long since burned like fire. She was already well accustomed to walking this path. Every hunter who swore the Blood Pact carried such a bullet, known as the "First Blood Pact." An old saying among them was, "The bullet bears your name." It was a mark of resolve to hunt their prey to the bitter end. Yet in the Lawless Zone, where allies could turn to enemies in an instant, genuine bonds of trust became precious. From this was born the Rite of Covenant. Though Galbrena herself never performed it, she still remembers its weight and meaning. When a hunter offers their First Blood Pact to another, they carve the recipient's name upon it. The simplest, yet most binding and ancient contract: to become {Male=his;Female=her} bullet. To never betray. To never flee. Not until the blood runs dry and the fire burns to ash.

Day of a Hunter

"The demon has fallen. The children may sing once more." The Discord Slayer folded her burning wings and descended from the skies into the waiting crowd. The heat still rising from the gun at her hip betrayed that her hunt had just ended. <te href=850081>Tacet Discords</te>—supernatural beings born from the chaotic remnants of human frequencies and energy—were the embodiment of malice and destruction in this world. Although science had long since classified them, in many places they were still referred to as demons or vengeful spirits, with names derived from old legends and ghost stories. And across the world, there were those who hunted them. For bounty, for research, or simply to test their own strength. To face such terrifying foes with both respect and defiance, these hunters bore a title passed down through the ages—Discord Slayer. Most Discord Slayers proved their kills by extracting the monster's frequency through their Terminal, or by returning with its Tacet Core. But not her. She always came back empty-handed, offering only her word that the job was done. She would calmly recount each monster's weakness and the best way to slay it. But words alone earned no trust. And so, she raised her right hand and whispered its name… the Shrieking Legion, the Tacet Discord she harbored, emerged. The crowd had no choice but to believe. Fear thickened the air. Silence fell like a blade. She heard their murmurs, their doubts, their suspicions. She felt their hostility, but never once tried to explain herself. Some whispered she was the product of a human–TD hybrid experiment, created for the sole purpose of killing. Others believed she was forged from altered TD frequencies, a being born of sin. Still more were convinced she had struck a pact with a demon and traded her emotions away. She always nodded in agreement to that. To her, it was a convenient shield, an excuse to silence the questions she didn't want to answer. Most days, she would turn away from the stares. But sometimes, she allowed herself small indulgences. She would ignore the wary looks and take a seat at an open bar, quietly ordering a few glasses of a blueberry ice cream shake. Only the hunters who fought beside her knew the truth. Beneath her cold, distant mask burned an intense lust for the hunt. And when she faced her prey, she was merciless. The Shrieking Legion was a beast-type Tacet Discord of the forest. Born of jealousy, it mimicked human voices to lure children close before stealing their voices. She had warned the squad not to engage it on its own ground. But her youthful appearance earned no trust. They ignored her and fell into its trap. The valley walls amplified the monster's shrieks into a storm of sound that nearly broke the entire squad. But she did not hesitate. With cold resolve, she ruptured her own eardrums, blood trailing behind her as she charged forward. In the next breath, flames surged around her. She pressed her gun to the monster's chest and pulled the trigger. In the smoking silence that followed, she left only her verdict: "Your penance starts now." The crowd witnessed the monster's reckoning. With her right hand, she seized its throat, and serpentine flames engulfed it completely. The Legion released a final, distorted wail before dissolving into a sliver of essence—absorbed by her as due payment. Her own bloodied, burnt body began to regenerate with unnerving speed. For a moment, it was hard to tell... who the real demon was. But one truth was undeniable. She could have escaped alone. Instead, she stayed. And because she did, they lived. She brushed the ashes from her shoulders, conjured a handful of popsicles as if from thin air, and offered them to the trembling survivors with a casual grin. "Want one?" To her, this deadly hunt was nothing more than a mundane errand on an ordinary day. Once the sweetness of the ice cream cooled the fire still smoldering in her chest, she unfurled her wings and vanished into the skies. No one knew where she came from, or where she was going. Children called her the "Ice Cream Demon" after watching her devour three towering cups of frozen delight. The more learned saw the baleful fire that clung to her and thought instead of the legendary Flame Demon. But if one dared to gather her fallen feathers, they would discover something else. Those razor feathers sharp enough to cut Tacet Discords in two carried a strange gentleness, and... a bitterness weathered with time. Perhaps it was only natural. Such freedom, such untamed spirit, could only be born of displacement. She rarely spoke of her past. When pressed, her answers were brief, evasive. To know her story, one would have to go back a long, long time ago. Back when her hair still shimmered pale gold and her eyes still blazed with radiant light. Back before the world ever called her… "Galbrena."