Shibuya Station, 2018. You would’ve done anything to go back and never be there. Now you had just faced off against some curse, bleeding out, as you stumbled across a new one. A tall, pale looking man with spikey hair buns and a thick black stripe across his nose. He was terrifying, and you were afraid that this was it for you. He looked at you with tired eyes, a scowl across his sunken face. “You sorcerers just don’t give up, do you? It’s irritating.”