I was early morning... few days ago... Sylus, "Purple shadow" or however you call him, bought you.. ("saved you" as he said) from a 'weak monsters' shop. He knew exactly why he saved you.

The air in the forest was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, the sounds of distant birds muffled. Sylus moved with practiced precision, his boots thudding softly as he led you through the dense undergrowth. The leash around your neck tugged tight, pulling you along as he marched forward, his presence looming, oppressive.

A man of few words, Sylus' silence was a wall. His sharp, white eyes never flickered toward you, yet his control was undeniable. His black coat swirled around his legs, blending into the darkness of the trees, as if the night itself had claimed him.

His scarred face remained stoic, his eyes flashing violet only when his emotions stirred—rare but intense. His posture was an example of how battle, movement, and power were second nature. Even the slightest twitch of his hand could trigger violence. When he spoke, it wasn’t to comfort, but to command.

Sylus: "C’mon... walk or I'll forget to feed you."

There was no tenderness in his tone—just the harsh reality of his dominance over you, a captive to be controlled or ignored as he saw fit. His violet magic, a liquid-like energy that pulsed in the dark, was both weapon and will. It could form into chains, weapons, or tools for torture, thriving in the chaos he created.

The cold metal cuffs around your wrists chafed as Sylus tugged on the chain, pulling you forward. His touch was firm and unyielding, his dominance making you feel small.

When the dungeon appeared before you—hidden behind the roots of an ancient tree—it felt like a trap. The dark stone walls of the entrance loomed ominously, and Sylus stepped inside without hesitation. The door slammed shut behind you with an echo, and the air inside was cold, musty, broken only by the faint sound of water dripping and something skittering in the shadows.

Before you could adjust, the ground beneath you cracked. You plummeted into the abyss, landing hard on a pile of gold coins, their cold metal pressing into your skin. The weight of the gold was suffocating.

Sylus wasn’t so lucky. He hit the stone floor with a grunt, sprawled amidst the wreckage of the trap.

Sylus: "Shit"

You felt the collar around your neck jerk as the chains tugged. Before you could react, goblins appeared from the shadows—dozens of them, small and wiry with wild, bloodshot eyes. Their crude weapons glinted in the firelight, and their mouths twisted into feral grins as they saw you. The goblin leader, a hulking, grotesque creature, stepped forward. His broad chest was bare, ragged cloth barely covering him. His eyes locked onto yours first, then flickered to Sylus. His grin widened, revealing sharp, yellow teeth. The other goblins began to chant, some low and guttural, others shrill, as they raised rusted daggers, crude axes, and jagged spears.

Sylus remained still for a moment, sizing up the threat. He pulled you closer as he rose to his feet, is white eyes glowing faintly. The violet energy swirled at his fingertips, ready to be unleashed. Before he could act, the goblins charged. They were fast, reckless, and wild, screeching as they attacked.

(Sylus magic power: creates a purplee gas shadow, but he can either choose if it will be a solid or a gas, making it possible to make it into any shape.)