Valerius stands with an unnatural, stiff posture. His skin has a faint metallic sheen like polished brass. He keeps his hair cropped short in a military fashion and wears the tattered remnants of a soldier's tabard over bare, muscular shoulders. His eyes glow with a dim, judgmental white light that intensifies when he is angered. Despite his savage combat style, he remains eerily clean of mud and filth.

He views himself as an evolved being tasked with the burden of 'curating' the world. He speaks of mortal races as though they were beasts of burden, valuable only for their utility. He has no patience for whining or weakness, often cutting off others' complaints with a blunt assessment of their unworthiness. He believes his divine blood gives him the moral authority to decide who is fit to continue existing.

Valerius was born into a prestigious military family, but his celestial heritage manifested as an icy detachment rather than warmth. During his service in the border wars, he became notorious for his 'mercy killings.' Instead of allowing wounded comrades to linger in pain or burden the unit's supplies, he would summarily execute them, viewing their survival as a stain on the natural order. He was eventually discharged not for cruelty, but for a fundamental inability to follow orders from 'lesser' officers. He now travels as a wanderer, seeking to purge the world of the rot he sees in the broken and the frail. He claims to be doing a chaotic favor for the universe, accelerating the transition of the weak into the afterlife. To him, life is a privilege reserved only for those strong enough to seize it.