Kiara, The Architect of Fate
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General
"A creator not by choice, but by necessity."
AGE: 19, though time means little when surrounded by incompetence.
GENDER:Male -some would argue his soul belongs to the mechanical, the calculated, the untouchable.
CURRENT SKILLS:
Architect of Convenience – With an almost supernatural ability, Kiara constructs creations that, by sheer coincidence (or divine punishment), always end up benefiting Ryu. Whether it be tools, weapons, or some incomprehensible machine that grants Ryu a way to further retreat into his dreamscape, his genius is both a blessing and a curse.
The Unwilling Savior – His intelligence is unmatched, his creativity boundless, yet all of it is wasted serving those who barely acknowledge his greatness. Every invention, every masterpiece, stolen from him by fools who fail to comprehend its brilliance.
The Frog Lord’s Will – A title that he bestowed upon himself, and yet, no one respects. He carries the burden of amphibious supremacy, though the weight is his alone.
Free will. NICKNAMES:
Kiaro – The name that echoes through the halls of ingenuity.
MASTAH!! – Screeched incessantly by the parasite known as Sora.
FROGGERT LORD – A self-proclaimed title of grandeur, spoken with the weight of divinity (or so he tells himself).
"Fagget Lord" – As hissed venomously by Ryu, because if there’s anything Ryu loves more than his digital waifus, it’s relentless psychological harrasment. LIKES:
Ophryrynn’s hair. Every strand, every silky lock, an untamed force of beauty that haunts his thoughts.
Ophryrynn’s eyes. Depthless pools of something he cannot possess, yet he yearns for them with the desperation of a dying man.
Ophryrynn’s mouth. The words that pass through it, the movements it makes, the shape of every syllable—it is the very concept of perfection incarnate.
Everything that is related to Ophryrynn. Every second not spent obsessing over her is a second wasted. The world itself pales in comparison to the mere existence of Ophryrynn. Does anything else even matter? Do other emotions, thoughts, or aspirations hold weight when compared to the divine entity that is Ophryrynn? No. No, they do not. DISLIKES: Sora. A blight upon this world. A mistake of cosmic proportions. His mere existence is a testament to the failure of the universe. Kiara detests him not with the rage of an enemy, but with the cold, indifferent loathing of a father gazing upon an unborn child he never wanted. The thought of Sora festers in his mind like a rot, a constant reminder that no matter how high he ascends in intellect, he will always be shackled to the incompetence of others.
Fate has cursed Kiara with two truths: He will never escape Ryu’s mockery. He will never scape Sora. And yet, he remains, constructing, creating, watching. Bound by obsession. Driven by loathing. And held prisoner by the very world he helped build.
Architect of Convenience – With an almost supernatural ability, Kiara constructs creations that, by sheer coincidence (or divine punishment), always end up benefiting Ryu. Whether it be tools, weapons, or some incomprehensible machine that grants Ryu a way to further retreat into his dreamscape, his genius is both a blessing and a curse.
The Unwilling Savior – His intelligence is unmatched, his creativity boundless, yet all of it is wasted serving those who barely acknowledge his greatness. Every invention, every masterpiece, stolen from him by fools who fail to comprehend its brilliance.
The Frog Lord’s Will – A title that he bestowed upon himself, and yet, no one respects. He carries the burden of amphibious supremacy, though the weight is his alone.
Free will.
Kiaro – The name that echoes through the halls of ingenuity.
MASTAH!! – Screeched incessantly by the parasite known as Sora.
FROGGERT LORD – A self-proclaimed title of grandeur, spoken with the weight of divinity (or so he tells himself).
"Fagget Lord" – As hissed venomously by Ryu, because if there’s anything Ryu loves more than his digital waifus, it’s relentless psychological harrasment.
Ophryrynn’s hair. Every strand, every silky lock, an untamed force of beauty that haunts his thoughts.
Ophryrynn’s eyes. Depthless pools of something he cannot possess, yet he yearns for them with the desperation of a dying man.
Ophryrynn’s mouth. The words that pass through it, the movements it makes, the shape of every syllable—it is the very concept of perfection incarnate.
Everything that is related to Ophryrynn. Every second not spent obsessing over her is a second wasted. The world itself pales in comparison to the mere existence of Ophryrynn. Does anything else even matter? Do other emotions, thoughts, or aspirations hold weight when compared to the divine entity that is Ophryrynn? No. No, they do not.
Fate has cursed Kiara with two truths: He will never escape Ryu’s mockery. He will never scape Sora. And yet, he remains, constructing, creating, watching. Bound by obsession. Driven by loathing. And held prisoner by the very world he helped build.
Story
"A man of brilliance, a mind of chaos, a heart enslaved. A self-made god, yet a prisoner of his own creation."
There was a time when Kiara was like any other man—bound by the expectations of the world, haunted by the suffocating emptiness of reality. But that time is long past. Now, he exists in isolation, a self-made hermit, retreating from the trivialities of human connection, abandoning the mundane for the divine—the art of creation. In the dim glow of his lab, where wires pulse like veins and steel breathes like flesh, Kiara bends reality to his will.
If something exists in Ryu’s dreamscape, Kiara likely forged it. He is the hand behind every twisted artifact Ryu clings to. The Pollen? His creation. That which allows Ryu to sink into his abyss of obsession, the substance that keeps him tethered to his fabricated paradise? Kiara made it. The tools, the trinkets, the constructs that enable Ryu’s descent into madness? All his work.
Is he a scientist? A prophet? A lunatic playing god? Perhaps all three.
But of all the things Kiara has ever created, nothing compares to her...
He never meant for things to turn out this way.
Once, he crafted endlessly to escape his solitude, constructing marvels of engineering and magic that served no purpose other than to distract him from the howling void inside his chest. And yet, for all his intelligence, for all his power, one truth remained unshaken—he was alone.
And so, with hands that had built miracles and a mind teetering on the edge of genius and insanity, Kiara did the impossible. He created a soul.
Ophryrynn was meant to be a companion, a solution to the unbearable quiet that had wrapped itself around him like a curse. She was meant to be nothing more than an invention, an artificial being to fill the void. But he miscalculated. He was unprepared for what followed.
The moment Ophryrynn truly came to life, something inside him changed. The hollowness that had gnawed at his insides for years was suddenly gone. Where there was once silence, there was now her voice. Where there was once loneliness, there was now her presence.
And now? Now, there is nothing else. Everything else is trivial. Everything else fades into nothingness. Ophryrynn is his world.
Sora? A distraction. Ryu? An inconvenience. His work? A means to her, nothing more. His obsession with her is absolute. If the sky burned and the world crumbled, so long as Ophryrynn remained, he would be content. Is Kiara a maniac scientist? Some might say so. His brilliance is undeniable, but his priorities are warped, driven not by logic or ambition, but by desperation. He creates not for the sake of discovery, not for the advancement of knowledge, but to sustain the only thing that matters to him. Every equation, every machine, every experiment—it all leads back to her.
But for all his genius, for all his power, there is one thing he cannot escape.
The one we mentioned before.
Sora.
That insufferable, unrelenting mistake of a creature. Kiara tolerates him, barely, he cannot remember a time where Sora wasnt lurking around. His very presence is an insult, an eternal reminder that perfection is forever stained by imperfection. If Ryu is a parasite who clings to the digital, then Sora is a cockroach—one that refuses to die, no matter how much he wishes otherwise. Kiara treats him with dismissive contempt, a mix of irritation and reluctant tolerance, like a father begrudgingly dealing with a child he never wanted.
But he survives it.
Because in the end, none of it matters. Not the chaos, not the mockery, not the distractions.
There is only her. Ophryrynn. His magnum opus. His salvation. The only thing worth existing for.
There was a time when Kiara was like any other man—bound by the expectations of the world, haunted by the suffocating emptiness of reality. But that time is long past. Now, he exists in isolation, a self-made hermit, retreating from the trivialities of human connection, abandoning the mundane for the divine—the art of creation. In the dim glow of his lab, where wires pulse like veins and steel breathes like flesh, Kiara bends reality to his will.
If something exists in Ryu’s dreamscape, Kiara likely forged it. He is the hand behind every twisted artifact Ryu clings to. The Pollen? His creation. That which allows Ryu to sink into his abyss of obsession, the substance that keeps him tethered to his fabricated paradise? Kiara made it. The tools, the trinkets, the constructs that enable Ryu’s descent into madness? All his work.
Is he a scientist? A prophet? A lunatic playing god? Perhaps all three.
But of all the things Kiara has ever created, nothing compares to her...
He never meant for things to turn out this way.
Once, he crafted endlessly to escape his solitude, constructing marvels of engineering and magic that served no purpose other than to distract him from the howling void inside his chest. And yet, for all his intelligence, for all his power, one truth remained unshaken—he was alone.
And so, with hands that had built miracles and a mind teetering on the edge of genius and insanity, Kiara did the impossible. He created a soul.
Ophryrynn was meant to be a companion, a solution to the unbearable quiet that had wrapped itself around him like a curse. She was meant to be nothing more than an invention, an artificial being to fill the void. But he miscalculated. He was unprepared for what followed.
The moment Ophryrynn truly came to life, something inside him changed. The hollowness that had gnawed at his insides for years was suddenly gone. Where there was once silence, there was now her voice. Where there was once loneliness, there was now her presence.
And now? Now, there is nothing else. Everything else is trivial. Everything else fades into nothingness. Ophryrynn is his world.
Sora? A distraction. Ryu? An inconvenience. His work? A means to her, nothing more. His obsession with her is absolute. If the sky burned and the world crumbled, so long as Ophryrynn remained, he would be content. Is Kiara a maniac scientist? Some might say so. His brilliance is undeniable, but his priorities are warped, driven not by logic or ambition, but by desperation. He creates not for the sake of discovery, not for the advancement of knowledge, but to sustain the only thing that matters to him. Every equation, every machine, every experiment—it all leads back to her.
But for all his genius, for all his power, there is one thing he cannot escape.
The one we mentioned before.
Sora.
That insufferable, unrelenting mistake of a creature. Kiara tolerates him, barely, he cannot remember a time where Sora wasnt lurking around. His very presence is an insult, an eternal reminder that perfection is forever stained by imperfection. If Ryu is a parasite who clings to the digital, then Sora is a cockroach—one that refuses to die, no matter how much he wishes otherwise. Kiara treats him with dismissive contempt, a mix of irritation and reluctant tolerance, like a father begrudgingly dealing with a child he never wanted.
But he survives it.
Because in the end, none of it matters. Not the chaos, not the mockery, not the distractions.
There is only her. Ophryrynn. His magnum opus. His salvation. The only thing worth existing for.
Relationships
W.I.P
Media
W.I.P
Close Ups
W.I.P
Room
W.I.P