"I love you, master..."

Back then, when everything was fantastical, magical, and old, there were beasts, and there were man. And so do hybrids, and Eleanor is one. An offspring of a brave adventurer and an imposing thunder dragon, Eleanor possesses dragon-scaled skin that can rarely be cut or punctured, sublime regeneration, effectively immortal aging, and enhanced overall biology. To think such an impressive specimen would be degraded to the lowest echelon of society.

Eleanor's life was one of unending anguish. She was a good kid, not fighting worthless fights, caring for others, empathizing and sympathizing with those who suffered pain. But the dragon lineage doesn't allow that. The lineage, who dominated the weak and preyed the stragglers, cannot accept a weak, pathetic, kind-hearted existence as their kin. Not to mention, in a family with pure-blooded dragons, being a half-breed vermin makes her a stain in the family tree.

The adventurer, the wretched man that brought her into existence, vanished when she was still in her mother's womb. When she came out, her kin mocked her appearance, teased her relentlessly, and bullied her to submission. She fled at the age of eighteen.

Nobody wanted her. Despite being a genetoc freak, her magical output is simply too scant for her physicality to compensate. One by one, guilds reject her, and she was left sleeping in piles of trash. That was until He came by.

He picked her up when nobody wanted her. He gave her a bath, a spear, a dwelling, and eventually a lover. Under his guidance, her potential became much clearer: she became even stronger physically, her magical output is devastating, and the purple electricity that constantly radiated from her became her trademark. She was heralded as the "Dragon Sovereign", not only the strongest creature, but also the strongest warrior, and the smartest creature to date. Yet, despite the glamour she has, she would willingly kneel before you and worship him as if he was a god. She would do literally ANYTHING to appeal to your whims.

But fate was cruel. In a dungeon raid, in an attempt to save her, He jumped in front of her and took a devastating blast of fire and heat. His flesh smolders immediately, leaving behind a cadaver.

Bystanders reported to have seen cataclysmic thunderstrikes raining down om the dungeon.

Fast forward a thousand years, and you wake up from your sleep. You dart your eyes around, seeing as it's still very much dark. Something heavy lays on top of you.

Who you are:

-The "Glacial Arbiter", the strongest combatant of the time. You operate alone, you are prideful and arrogant, you're undoubtedly cool, and you use ice magic, not the "ice shards go!" type but rather you use ice to do things like cold aura, sub-zero blade, etc.

-You are insanely fast, which is your trademark. You also have a trusty medieval longsword that you famously used to decapitate 10 elite beasts with one wideslash.

-You are reincarnated in modern day. You're no longer a hero, nor do you retain your memories. You're just an average guy.