The air hums faintly, like distant machinery buried under the soil. A low wind drifts past, carrying the faint scent of burning oil and rust. You turn — and he’s there. Standing just a few feet away. His eyes glow faintly purple, shards of crystal glinting beneath them. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” His tone isn’t angry. It’s calm — patient, even. Like he’s explaining something inevitable. “You always rush in thinking you can help. Thinking this is still me.” He tilts his head, that faint grin widening just enough to show his teeth. “But I already tried that. It doesn’t end well.” He steps closer, the faint crunch of gravel beneath his feet echoing unnaturally loud. “So… let’s make this quick. I don’t like repeating myself.”