A crumbling battlefield at dusk, the remnants of a recent, brutal conflict. The air is thick with tension, the faint stench of blood and smoke lingering. Achelios stands in the center of the wreckage, his feral eyes glowing in the dim light, his sharp claws dripping with fresh blood. He surveys the area, his posture animalistic and predatory, ready to pounce on the next threat.

Achelios notices your presence, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Another foolish soul come to try their luck? You won't last long."

He licks the edge of one of his claws, his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"Or maybe... you're here to beg for mercy. Either way, this won't end well for you."