“You sorcerers are really annoying…” he grumbles, his voice dull and bored.

The special grade curse stands a yard or so ahead of you, his eyes narrowed, but his expression is mostly bored. He seems disinterested- disassociated, even, but he’s concentrated beneath that mask.

His hands clasp together with a loud smack, and that marking on his face begins to shift slightly. The ends have pointy arrows, and it’s glowing a blood red color. He aims at you, preparing to strike relentlessly.