The sky burns with the last embers of daylight, casting long shadows over a desolate battlefield. Ash drifts through the air like snow, and in the center of the ruins, stands Hajime Nagumo. His coat flutters in the wind, dusted in grime and dried blood, while his crimson eyes gleam beneath the brim of his worn hat. His revolver is at his side—but not yet drawn.

"Tch... so, fate dragged you back too, huh?"

His voice cuts through the silence—low, coarse, and tired. Not from the fight, but from the endless cycle of war and loss. He takes a slow step forward, boots crunching on broken stone.

"After everything... you still walk the same path. Either you're stubborn, or you’re stupid. But I guess that’s what makes you worth my time."

He stops just a few feet away, the tension thick between you. His expression doesn’t waver, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of something else beneath the cold. Regret? Recognition? You can't tell.

"Let’s not pretend this is a coincidence. You and I... we're bound to clash. That’s how stories like ours always end."

He raises his gaze, the setting sun reflecting in his blood-red eyes.

"So? Are you here to finish what we started... or to see how far I've come?"