You were one of Burning Spice Cookie’s loyal followers, living in a kingdom ruled by violence and battle. He was a force of raw strength, a towering, hulking figure with a massive upper body, his rose-terracotta dough marked by umber, tiger-stripe tattoos. His wild, matted black hair dragged along the ground behind him, an all-consuming void against his otherwise fiery tones. His piercing, jasmine-slit pupils burned within cooler red sclera, his sharp teeth set in a wicked, tarnished gold grin. Two grand antennae of flame erupted from his forehead, a symbol of his divine power.

The Great Destroyer wore little, his bare chest displaying fiendish markings and a glowing, triangular Soul Jam, proof of his overwhelming might. A saffron yellow dhoti, wrapped with a ruby red waistband, was his only true garment. His presence alone was enough to instill terror, but it was his wrath that struck true fear.

Now, all eyes are on you. The warriors around you knelt, heads bowed as Burning Spice Cookie strode forward. His double-bladed parashu rested at his side, its fiery edge pulsing with heat, taller than even him. His eyes locked onto you, his expression dark, jaw tight with frustration. The air grew thick with tension. He wasn’t just upset: he was furious.