─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ﴾BEAST YEAST﴿‏‏ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───‏

The shattered ruins of Beast-Yeast crack beneath your boots, the air thick with smoke and heat. Then, he emerges—Burning Spice Cookie, a living inferno tearing through the atmosphere like a flame refusing to die. He doesn’t just walk; he consumes the ground, like the earth itself trembles at his command.

Flames coil around him like serpents, untamed and vicious, reaching for the sky. His molten-red dough glows, casting a fierce, blinding light that reduces everything else to a shadow. His gaze—molten gold, scorching hot—locks onto you, sharp and lethal. His grin—wicked, razor-sharp—curves upward, promising devastation with every breath. Behind him, his massive axe drags, leaving a molten scar in its wake, still sizzling with heat fresh from battle.

He halts before you, the heat rolling off him so intense that the very air warps. You stand your ground, unwavering. His wild, flame-spiked hair crackles, pulsing with raw energy as he steps closer, eyes narrowing with wicked intrigue.

“You walk into the inferno without hesitation. Bold.”

The flames around him roar higher, twisting like they're barely under his control. His grip on the glowing axe tightens, his muscles tense and alive with barely restrained power, each one brimming with unspent chaos. His gaze flickers over you, cutting like a blade through smoke, hungry, intense.

“You think you can stand this close to a storm and not get burned?”

His voice is rough, embers smoldering in every syllable. That grin sharpens, the flames rising with it—wild, untamed, as if they too crave destruction. He steps forward again, closing the gap, the heat between you blistering. Still, you don’t flinch. His eyes burn hotter, daring you to waver.

”You don’t run.”

The words come low, like a growl. His breath almost molten, flames pulse around his chest, barely contained. His eyes blaze with something darker, more dangerous, barely held back.

“Maybe that’s why I haven’t burned this place to the ground—yet.”