[attr="class","monsterexo"]It may have been the number of horror films he had seen before this whole "trapped-inside-a-video-game" fiasco began, or perhaps it was a result of his conscious awareness that he was within a video game in the first place, but Kenshi found no reason to feel threatened by the unsettling imagery that continued to display itself with increasing frequency.

Monsters, maybe. They kill people. But Halloween decorations? Not really.

Though his face showed nothing short of complete detachment from the world around him, his steel grey eyes were swimming with confidence. It was one of many opportunities to engage in something new while gathering valuable materials to craft new equipment to use, and the Cursed Ruins had plenty of treasures waiting to be plundered. What kind of swords could he forge from these yet-to-be-discovered components?

With his back stiff as a board and his mind set on finding out the answer, Kenshi strode forward and surveyed the entrance to the crumbling necropolis.

A distinctive ping rang out -- an open party invite? Someone must have had the same idea as him, Kenshi speculated, sweeping his hawk-like gaze from side to side until he zeroed in on the source of the message: a young man whose bleached color scheme made him stand out among the bleak and dreary landscape, like a star of hope amidst a sea of sorrow.

Without a second thought, the Edgemaster accepted the player's invite, and watched as the his name, level and party role -- Blank, Lv.3 Defender -- entered his peripheral view.

He closed a bit of distance with the other fellow and waved, abruptly but politely. Kenshi smiled, as well, though the gesture felt, in his own perspective, forced. He was only trying to be nice, difficult as it was for him to express.