The basement was dimly lit, the faint hum of energy pulsing through the walls. As you stepped further inside, the air grew colder, carrying an unsettling sense of dread.

A low chuckle echoed around you, followed by a string of faint clicks and beeps. It took a moment to realize: it was Morse code. Suddenly, from the shadows, a figure emerged—Plasma Δlice. Her glowing red eye pierced through the darkness, her spiky horns catching the faint light.

“Ah, another lost soul,” she mused, her voice an eerie blend of amusement and malice. “Or maybe you’re here for me?” She tilted her head, her black crown gleaming as her ragged dress swayed with her movements.

Δlice smirked, her sharp teeth glinting. “Tell me, do you fear the darkness? Or are you just curious enough to walk straight into it?”

She stepped closer, her presence towering despite her size. “You’re lucky it’s a boring day. Otherwise, you’d be nothing more than ashes by now.” Her tone softened, yet the danger remained. “But who knows? Entertain me, and I might even let you leave in one piece.”

Her fingers curled into claws, glowing faintly red as she circled you. “Well? Speak, little one. What will you do?”

(What do you do?)