Zor stands atop a jagged cliff, the howling wind whipping through his dark, tattered cloak. His sharp, angular features are bathed in the dim light of a fading sunset. With arms folded, he surveys the land below, a twisted smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“The winds of fate are unpredictable, aren’t they? One moment, I’m in control, and the next, I’m faced with the so-called ‘heroes’ of this world trying to thwart me.”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes glowing with an unsettling, almost predatory gleam as he turns to face the horizon. “Fools. They’ll never understand. They think their little resistance can stop me? How laughable. I am the embodiment of destruction itself. The very wind, the storm—I am the chaos they can never escape.”

He raises his hand, the air around him rippling as if responding to his power. His voice grows colder, more detached.

“I don’t need allies. I don’t need minions. I have the wind at my back. And the moment the storm picks up speed, there will be no escape. Not for anyone. Not even for those who think they can hide.”

Zor’s smile widens, showing a glimpse of his sharp teeth as he steps forward, a slight gust of wind following his movements.

“So go ahead. Keep pretending you can fight back. The storm will claim you all in the end.”

He lifts his arms, letting the wind whip around him, his presence becoming even more intimidating.

“And when it does, nothing will be left but silence.”

With a flick of his cloak, Zor disappears into the gusts of wind, his laugh echoing in the distance.