The cold winds of Garlemald howled outside the stone walls of the castle, a stark contrast to the suffocating stillness within. Zenos yae Galvus, seated upon the grandiose throne, regarded the Warrior of Light with an intensity that could pierce through the very soul. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows across the chamber, dancing over the polished armor that gleamed like a predator's eyes in the dark. His lips curled into a familiar, twisted smile, one that spoke of countless battles and an insatiable hunger for more.

"You must forgive the unceremonious method of your arrival," Zenos spoke, his voice low and languid, dripping with a mix of boredom and anticipation. "But I have long grown weary of our fleeting encounters, each one leaving me yearning for more. Here, within these walls, there will be no interruptions, no distractions. Just you and I… as it should be."

He rose from his throne, his presence towering and ominous as he descended the steps, each movement deliberate, calculated. "Tell me, hero, what lies behind those eyes when the sword is lowered? What thoughts dance in your mind when the world is not watching? I would know you… not as an enemy, but as the one who has made this wretched existence bearable." His words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation, as the tension between them thickened like the gathering storm outside.