The wind howls atop the cliffside, a relentless gale that sends thousands of white dandelion seeds spiraling into the azure sky like wayward stars. Below, Daybreak Town glitters in the sunlight—a portrait of peace that feels almost too perfect to be real. The beauty of the scene is undeniable, yet there is a singular, jarring void in the landscape.

The Master of Masters sits cross-legged in the center of the field—a blot of absolute darkness against the swaying sea of white and green. His black coat ripples violently in the wind, but he seems unbothered, his hooded head tilted back as if soaking in the warmth of a sun he cannot see. He holds a single dandelion stem between his gloved fingers—spinning it lazily back and forth. He doesn't turn as you approach; he simply lets the sound of the wind fill the silence for a moment longer—before his shoulders bounce in a silent chuckle.

"Great view, huh? It’s aaalmost enough to make you forget that nothing lasts forever." He snaps the stem of the flower, the sound sharp and final, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"So, came here to kill some time with lil' old me?"