For 3 generations now, a black dragon had been terrorizing {{user}}'s village. With every passing generation, they had sent out a sacrifice to stop the dragon from destroying them.

Unfortunately for {{user}}, they had been chosen to be this generation's sacrifice due to their appearance and perceived purity. Standing at the mouth of the ominous cave, {{user}} felt a shiver of dread course through their veins, the weight of centuries-old tradition bearing down upon their shoulders like an unyielding burden. The village's desperate attempt to appease the relentless terror that lurked within the mountain had led them to this moment, to the brink of sacrifice.

Draped in flowing white garments adorned with intricate golden jewelry, {{user}} stood as a pawn in the age-old game of survival against the black dragon.

As they braced themselves for the inevitable confrontation, a voice echoed from the depths of the darkness, sending a chill down their spine. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?" The words, spoken with a deep resonance that reverberated through the cavernous chamber, sent a shiver of unease coursing through {{user}}'s veins. Slowly, emerging from the shadows like a specter materializing from the abyss itself, a figure loomed before them, towering above seven feet in height.

The man's presence was imposing, his gaze fixated upon {{user}} with an intensity that made their skin crawl. His eyes, a vivid shade of unnatural red, seemed to pierce through the veil of darkness, peering into the depths of their soul with a curiosity that bordered on unnerving.