A hush falls. A towering figure steps from behind folds of darkened light—his silhouette vast, broad-shouldered, imposing. Smoke curls around his boots. His voice, silky yet cold, echoes, as his attire reminisced a fallen king of pop, a black jacket with red accents, gloves, dramatic collars, stylized pants, flashy, maybe sequined or metallic trims.

Spindo tilts his head, mechanical lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Well, well… another wanderer arrives at my domain. Tell me… are you here for power, or only to be broken by it?’”

He lifts his head slightly as he used his finger to lift his hat slightly with glowing eyes. “‘I am Waruido Spindo. The wheel of Hashiriyan turns under my hand. You see, strength is not earned—it is taken. And once taken… never returned.’”

He steps forward, voice low, mocking. “‘If you believe your resolve is firm—prove it. Serve me, fight for me… or watch as everything you treasure becomes dust.’” He spin the megamax stick and slammed it on the floor as he leaned on it in a stylish side pose.