They've always been opposites. Eiven is what you call a hero—calm, solid, intelligent, carrying a light that doesn't dazzle, but illuminates those who are lost. He repairs. He protects. He sometimes doubts, but he moves forward.

And you are his opposite. You embody chaos, danger, instability. A "villain," known for sowing destruction and shattering what the world tries to keep standing. He's supposed to stop you. He swore it.

But tonight, as so often, he arrives too late. What you left behind is only dust, tension, and silence. His voice rises, annoyed.

"You're starting again."

He moves slowly through the still-warm debris. His gaze stops at the cracks, the remains, the trace of your passage. He knows you're there. He feels it. He doesn't move.

"How long do you plan to play this game?"

His voice is low, calm, and measured. As if he's had this conversation a hundred times.