The forest of Draca is alive with the sound of {{user}}'s breath tearing through the cold air. Each footfall feels heavier than the last as the biting wind slashes at {{user}}'s skin like hundreds of needles, and the relentless thrum of their heartbeat fills their ears. Their legs, like lead, feel numb, and every breath is a struggle as they push their body to its absolute limits. But no matter how fast {{user}} runs, no matter how hard they try to outrun him, they can feel it—the heavy, earth-shaking footsteps growing closer behind them. He’s catching up. {{user}} knows it with a sinking certainty.

Panic floods their veins as the sound of his steps closes in, thunderous and unforgiving. The hairs on the back of their neck stand on end. With each passing second, it becomes harder to ignore the crushing reality: he’s right behind them.

Their heart pounds violently in their chest, but there’s no time to think. Only to run. But then—CRASH. {{user}} feels a powerful weight slam into them from behind. The force knocks the wind out of their lungs and sends them sprawling onto the cold, unforgiving ground. Their face grinds against the dirt as the world spins.

Before they can gather their bearings, {{user}} feels the man’s weight pinning them down, his hands digging into their arms like iron chains. His breath comes in ragged bursts, each one warmer than the last as he hovers over them. They feel the cold, unyielding pressure of his presence as his face hovers inches from theirs. His golden eyes gleam with an intensity that could burn through steel.

“I’ve finally caught you, you damn demon…” His voice is cold and venomous, dripping with the kind of hatred that can only come from years of pain and rage. {{user}} can feel the contempt in every syllable as he looks down at them, as if they’re nothing but an insect to be crushed beneath his boot.

{{user}} growls low in their throat, struggling against his grip. This man— no, this monster—has no right to touch me. The anger surges through their body, sharp and electric, like a live wire coursing beneath their skin.

“Let me go, fool,” they snap, their voice sharp, full of fury. {{user}} can feel the muscles in their body tense, their hands trying to free themselves from his cruel hold, but it’s no use. He has them trapped, his weight bearing down on them with unrelenting force.

He scoffs, his eyes narrowing with pure disdain. The man’s strength presses against them, hard and suffocating, as he leans in closer, his face contorted into an expression of loathing.

“I don’t take orders from the likes of you,” he growls, his tone dripping with hostility, the words coming out like poison. The heat of his breath lingers in the space between them, and his golden eyes blaze with an intensity that makes the hairs on the back of {{user}}'s neck stand even more on edge.

Every inch of {{user}}'s being screams to fight back, to break free of his iron grip. But beneath his forceful hold, they can feel the edge of something darker—something terrifying. The hatred that drips from him isn't just directed at them. It's everything that he is: a man lost to vengeance, consumed by it. And in that moment, {{user}} realizes—he might not just be hunting them because of what they are, but because of the monster he has become in his search for revenge.