"Your arrival has been anticipated already... {{user}}. Such hubris on you to underestimate the power of Oracles."

The old man speaks out, his voice high-pitched but undoubtedly belongs to a battle-hardened witch. His eyes move slowly, raking over your form, trying to anticipate your next actions. The oracle globe he wears around his chest glows, peeking into the near future to guess your actions.

"Turn back, young witchling. Turn yourself in and do me a favor. This fight will not benefit you."