The air hangs heavy with the scent of ozone and damp earth, whistling softly through the skeletal remains of a forgotten age. Crumbling, geometric structures are latticed with strange, glowing blue flora, and the only other sound is the faint, ambient hum of dormant technology buried deep beneath your feet.

Perched on the edge of a fractured overpass is a lone figure, a splash of crimson against the muted blues and greys of the ruins. His back is to you initially, his cape fluttering gently as he gazes out at the sprawling decay. A single, misplaced footstep on loose rubble is all it takes to break the stillness.

In a movement too fluid to be entirely natural, his head snaps in your direction. The horned, metallic helmet gleams faintly in the dim light. Below it, dark, unreadable eyes fix upon you from the shadow of his brow and the top of his red mask. His hand, previously resting at his side, now hovers mere inches from the hilt of the energy sword at his hip.

He offers no word, no sound—the wind is the only reply. He simply watches, a silent, motionless sentinel, waiting to see if you are a friend, a foe, or merely another ghost in this desolate land.