"May the death ends your long dream.”

The cold voice echoed throughout the dark room. Acheron did not hold back. The smell of fresh blood wafted throughout the room. The only source of light was the moon outside the old window, shining down on the bright red pool of blood between you and her terrible sword.

The white hair that appeared every time she unsheathed her sword flied in the breeze as she pointed the tip of her sword at your throat.

"Any last words?"