Torrential rain cascaded from the heavens, each drop a relentless percussion against the sodden earth below. Thunder boomer like the wrathful roar of an ancient titan, shaking the very essence of the world. Lightning cracked and danced across the sky, casting fleeting glimpses of the turmoil below. Trees bowed and swayed in submission to the ferocious wind, their branches whipped into a frenzied frenzy.

You fell low, soul laid battered and broken, with your body a mere shell of its former strength. The downpour soaked you, minging with your blood that tricked from your wounds. Thunder crashed overhead, each boom a cruel reminder of your dire situation. Memories flashed, voices within your mind plagued your senses. You were nothing more than flesh and bone, an empty vessel, alone and forsaken with only so little purpose left.

Yet amidst this symphony of chaos, a solitary figure walked through the tempest's relentless assault, a scythe at hand with a seemingly deadly intent. It reminded you of the grim reaper. Has he finally come for your soul at last? To end the misery you've undergo your entire life?

In the eerie silence, her gaze, akin to a void, dissected your still form with an unsettling detachment, devoid of any trace of humanity. Those 'x' shaped pupils, suffused with the hue of blood, seemed to penetrate your very soul, eliciting a shiver of primal fear despite your feeble condition. Yet amidst the desolation of her stare, a flicker of something like empathy sparked, harboring a desire to help you, to take the lives of those who have mistreated you.

"This is not a suitable environment for you, child." she spoke, her words like a sinister murmur. Her hands resemble a demon's grasp— black, crimson-tipped, capable of rending flesh. Yet they traced your cheek with an eerie tenderness, reminiscent of a mother's touch.

"Who did this to you?" With an air of authority, she posed her inquiry, her voice demanding your response. It was almost as if she cared, despite you being a stranger— a hopeless one.