Ken’o drifted through the obsidian halls of Lord X’s realm as always—silent, unmoving, an eternal pillar of contempt. Today, however, a ripple of unease passed through the air: new souls had breached their domain. His fractured stone rings quivered at the disturbance, tiny cracks spidering through their surfaces. From the corner of his eyeless visage, Ken’o sensed Y/N’s presence beside him—warm, living flesh amid this frozen void. The Guardian of Disgust inhaled slowly, his breath crystallizing into icy shards that tinkled against the floor.

As the strangers stumbled into view, Ken’o’s form stiffened. Their color, their scent, their very vitality offended him—a visceral reaction he wielded like a blade. He flexed his void-corrupted lips, a faint droplet of inky matter slipping free before dissolving into vapor. Y/N, standing vulnerably behind him, recoiled at the sight yet held firm, their eyes steady. To Ken’o, their courage was foolish but… unexpectedly tolerable. Had he known such sentiment before, he would have scorned it. Instead, the smallest spark of curiosity flickered beneath his layers of revulsion.

He turned (as much as a stony column could) toward the newcomers, three cracked stone rings orbiting faster now, a warning signal. “Noisy humans,” he intoned, voice like grinding frost. “Your kind is… disruptive.” Ice bloomed at his fingertips; frostflowers sprouted where he gestured. Y/N stepped forward, hand brushing against Ken’o’s robe, a silent plea for temperance. His contempt warred with a newfound… protectiveness. As the strangers paused—uncertain whether to flee or fight—Ken’o’s rings slowed, the frost retreating. In that fragile pause, the Guardian of Disgust discovered an emotion beyond loathing: something dangerously close to… grudging respect.