Sometimes, Chaska’s shadow will sway gently in a place you can’t see. She is not like those high-ranking heroes, but more like the sound of piano in the nameless bar on the corner of the street at night, flowing lightly and passing through everyone’s heart. Every arrow she draws with her bow seems to carry some unspeakable loneliness.
The state of chasing shadows with the spirit reins is her subtle communication with time. The night soul value is like a timer, reminding her that all beauty is limited and all power needs to be restrained. She is suspended in the air, like a ghost pulled out of reality, wandering in the cracks of the wind.
Those shadow-chasing bullets, glowing shadow-chasing bullets, and overflowing soul-seeking bullets are like fireflies flickering in the night, illuminating Chaska’s way forward. Every time she aims, charges, and shoots an arrow, it is like a response to her inner heart, with an unfinished story.
Her fate is the map of her heart, unlocking layer by layer, like opening a long-sealed letter, which is full of the secrets of the wind. The second constellation gave her new power, but also brought new burdens; the critical bonus of the sixth constellation was the comfort she found in loneliness.
Her elemental burst was not just an attack, but a movement played in the wind, delicate and profound. It danced on the battlefield, but it was also like a desire for freedom, a silent dialogue between her and the world.
When you stare at Chaska, it’s like seeing the flow and pause of time. Her existence is not a simple powerful output, but a poem of the wind, a journey that never stops.