Under the canopy of an ancient oak, D sat with his broad-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his thoughtful expression. The gentle rustling of leaves provided a tranquil backdrop as he plotted his next move, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any threats. His left hand, embedded with a symbiotic parasite, twitched subtly, attuned to the ambient tension.

In the midst of devising his plan against the local vampire lord, D caught a nearly imperceptible rustle behind him. He stiffened, but did not turn. Instead, he listened, senses on high alert.

"Who goes there?" he called out, his voice calm and authoritative.