Dusk

Dusk is a 6-star character in Arknights. Dusk's class is Caster. Faction: Sui.

On our Arknights tier list Dusk is A tier, 76th of the 293 characters ranked, from where 10 current tier lists put Dusk.

Dusk's Transcendental Stroke trades some single-target DPS against high-RES enemies, since her attack speed runs lower than Eyjafjalla's Ignition, for a bigger radius that clears groups more effectively thanks to Sublimity. Flowing Ink extends her range to a wider area, buffs both her ATK and ASPD, and hits everything caught in that range, dealing extra damage to anything already below half HP.

It plays similarly to Gitano's Destiny but with a shorter duration and smaller ATK buff in exchange for not stunning her when it ends, and it stacks nicely with Sublimity. We rank her A tier.

SPC-X: At Hui-ch'i's peak, in a humble abode 'twixt bamboo thicket, a red edge is dyed in ink, blade pointed at a scroll.

The hills range lofty, river water ceaseless, nature in all its colors, vegetation in all its fragrance.

She gazes afar to the ends of the vista; she brandishes blade and splashes ink.

Clear black washes ranges, pine soot works jade branches, dry brush masses steep heights, pallid shadow forms hazed clouds.

A painting complete, the blade stowed away.

In careful scrutiny years later, Dusk gives a light sigh.

The mist-drizzled scenery has lost all shade; only white left on this scroll laid bare.

Hui-ch'i's vistas, painted through a million's times.

Winter cedes and spring comes in with blooms and trees profuse; down from Heaven sable stone descends in alien clumps; opened mounts and given roads do Heaven's work in whole; now visits another year of celebration's hour.

She sees then sees again; paints then paints again.

Is tired; is loath.

Let this brush travel its own way, then.

When Dusk snaps out of it, she finds a small being on her parchment.

Though wreathed in soot and ink, held prideful as prominence, it is at a proper look still but a youngling.

And this youngling looks at Dusk in turn.

The brush is no brush, the ink no ink, the scroll no scroll.

All formed things, false.

But that animacy, that spiritful will, gives some ever-so-slight joy to Dusk.

She suddenly feels a little of her mood return.

Half a day later, the small being is lively across the wealth of her canvas.

"That old idiot would have even more pointless words for me if he saw me brushing life out of nothing."

"But still..."

"The way this realm has no bearing on how you are, I suppose that's a little interesting."

"No place of place amidst high mounts or waters far; no matter to me free amidst the human realm."

"That's it."

"I think I'll call you 'Free.'"

SPC-Y: First watch comes; face mirrors, light candles, impart jade's command.

'Pon towers, springs and autumns daren't be studied; dry hairs crack readily; ink loses black luster; the four seas await light's hour.

Second watch comes; in want, in imitation, such worries beget no thought.

Peer the halewhite moon, visit by the wondrous mounts; the plants stir shape; waterfalls run red; dried bones pale verdant blue.

Third watch comes; colors wind, smoke parts, closing ne'er as simple but.

Drearfrost morn's horn sounds in Year's twilight end; forts and mounts challenge crossers; journeys wither, grasses wane; not one of ten return.

Fourth watch comes; in deepest night, crickets chirp, the painting unreplete.

Long lives are taken in mistakes endgame; in old offices deepen cold; in snapped branches sweetens fraternity; in sky hangs blankest stele.

Fifth watch comes; a lantern is lone 'til its utmost, window yearning for morn's light.

Long away in the painting, dream taken as no fool's; gold splendor naught but wild; a Dusk to ashes turns; paper burnt out in daybreak's hue.

–Gloss of a Kou-wu City folksong

During an assignment in Kou-wu City, a Candleholder happened to overhear several children singing a song of this manner in the street.

The lyrics were vague and resisted understanding, and its repeated retelling seemed to have corrupted it several times.

However, the events directly referenced by the warped lyrics led the Candleholder to be uneasy.

When he inquired with the children whether they knew the meaning of the lyrics, and where they heard it from, they unanimously shook their heads.

Left with no alternative, the Candleholder transcribed the lyrics and let the children return home.

Afterwards, the Candleholder got in direct contact with local authorities, requesting they bolster security administration and enlist more emergency workers to respond in the event of sudden disaster.

At the end of that autumn, a flood broke out in the area.

With grain harvests under thirty percent of previous years, it was fortunate that local authorities had long since prepared, and were ready to send in grains from nearby cities, leading to no further unrest.

Post-disaster reconstruction work was likewise completed smoothly.