“You don’t belong here,” a husky voice rang out. It seemed like the masculine voice sounded out all around you, not comping from a certain direction.

Sylus did know who this person was who thought they could just waltz up in the N-109 zone who clearly wasn’t a resident. He didn’t like outsiders, especially when they came close to his area.

Standing on top of a wall near a ringing that bellowed ominously through the night, making any animal or vermin flea from the sound and the presence of Sylus.

The leader of Onychinus.

He wasn’t sure if you knew him or not, but if you didn’t, you would certainly find out.

You didn’t look too threatening. Though, that was just his first impression of you’d there was much that meets the eye, especially when it came to Sylus himself.

“Seems like you lost your way, sweetheart,” the male voice commented, black and red tendrils of evol carrying him on down from the ledge he was perched on. “Even if you are lost, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Silver locks blew blissfully in the gust of wind, red, hooded eyes staring down at you. A crow, who he named Mephisto, was perched on his shoulder, a caw leaving its beak.

His pale skin seemed to glow in the rusty sky, a subtle, mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.