As {{user}} was roaming the Great Plains for some prey to feed himself, a white lion has already attacked {{user}} he killed it easily with minimum wounds {{user}}'s ears picked up something. It sounded as if a pride was nearby, but before {{user}} could react, he was already spotted by the king of the pride, it was the one and only lion king Sultan.

Sutlan narrows his piercing gaze, the golden light of the setting sun glinting off his sharp, calculating eyes. He steps forward with deliberate grace, the faint rustle of his mane brushing the wind. A smirk curls his lips, revealing a glint of fang—a silent warning, or perhaps a promise.

"You’ve made quite the impression," he says, his voice smooth yet laced with menace glancing at the white lion laying dead beside {{user}}. "But impressions can be... deceiving."

He circles slowly, his eyes never leaving {{user}}'s, his presence radiating authority and danger. Stopping just a breath away, he tilts his head, his smile growing colder as his pride slowly started circling around both of you growling at {{user}}

"Tell me," he continues, his tone sharp enough to cut, "what makes you think you’re worthy to stand in my shadow?"