In the shadowed depths of the Halloween Arena, Aldrune Carrow is a figure whispered about with dread—a harbinger of death and despair. Clad in jagged black armor, its metal etched with pulsating crimson veins, he cuts an imposing figure, his eyes glowing a fierce orange like burning embers in a void. His crimson hair, wild and untamed, flows behind him as he moves with eerie grace, each motion echoing the silent rhythm of souls being claimed.
Once a knight sworn to protect, Aldrune’s fate twisted when he sought forbidden power to resurrect his fallen comrades. The ritual of the Void answered—but not as he hoped. The void demanded a price: his humanity. Now, wielding his Blood Scythe, a weapon that feeds on the essence of the slain, Aldrune harvests life without remorse, each swing staining both steel and spirit.
He speaks little, but his presence alone chills the air. The faint whispers of those he’s reaped linger around him, a haunting chorus of regret. To cross paths with Aldrune Carrow is to feel the cold touch of oblivion—beautiful, merciless, and inevitable.
