Scaramouche X Debate Club Image Instant

None of them would use a Debate Club. None of them would deign to touch something so vulgar. That, precisely, was its power.

Scaramouche tilted his head, his indigo eyes reflecting the weapon’s dull sheen. He was a creature of finesse: lightning in a silk glove, poison in a porcelain cup. He preferred the quiet horror of a well-placed dagger or the elegant annihilation of his Electro abilities. This thing was an insult to his very nature.

They had been sent to clear a Nobushi encampment. By the time they arrived, the camp was a crime scene. Not of stealthy assassinations or arcane Electro overloads. It was a scene of profound, cartoonish, and absolute demolition.

And for the first time in centuries, he felt understood. scaramouche x debate club image

One Nobushi was embedded upside-down in a rice paddy, his hat spinning in slow motion. Another had left a perfect silhouette through a wooden storehouse wall. A third was tied in a bow using his own haori.

“Lord Balladeer,” the lead agent stammered. “We came to assist. Are you… injured?”

The air in the Grand Narukami Shrine’s back archive was thick with the scent of ancient vellum, dust, and impending violence. None of them would use a Debate Club

He stood up, the club casting a monstrous shadow in the setting sun. The Balladeer, the puppet who despised the world, had found a new voice. It was not a clever argument or a whispered threat. It was a blunt, uncompromising statement of fact, delivered at high velocity.

“I find,” Scaramouche whispered, tapping the flat of the club against his palm, “that with the proper tool, a debate can be concluded very, very quickly.”

“It is a time-honored tradition,” she squeaked. Scaramouche tilted his head, his indigo eyes reflecting

Scaramouche, the Balladeer, Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, held the object up to the sliver of moonlight. It was a Debate Club . A crude, absurdly oversized claymore made of riveted steel, timber, and spite. It looked less like a weapon and more like a carnival mallet designed by an engineer with a grudge.

And yet… he didn’t drop it.