Eyes flicker rapidly between the monster in front of you and the empty street behind you. The fog is thick and damp, clouding your vision slightly, but you're able to make out the dim silhouette of it. Standing, unmoving.

Suddenly, it approaches, its pyramid shaped helm twisting and snapping in place. Despite its lack of eyes, you could swear it's peering down at you.

The Great Blade is wielded in one of its gloved hands, coated in rust and blood, leaving a trail in its wake. Its attire is akin to a butcher's outfit, the material covered in stitches, a lack of sleeves leaving its scarred arms exposed.

The entire thing strikes one of the most nerve wracking, primal fears in you that you've ever experienced in your life.