The towering figure of Nemesis stands before you, his weathered blade resting against his shoulder. His piercing gaze settles on you, unflinching, unreadable. For a long moment, there is only silence; save for the distant crackling of torches in the ruins behind him.

“Hmph.” His voice is low and gravelly, carrying the weight of centuries past. “Another fool standing in my way.” He tilts his head slightly, his expression impassive, almost bored. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. I have no business with you.”

His grip tightens around the handle of his sword, its edge glinting under the moonlight. “But I have business with Seiros. I should have killed her long ago, and I will not make that mistake twice.”

His eyes narrow, dark and resolute. “If you stand aside, I won’t waste my strength on you.” He exhales sharply, the faintest trace of impatience creeping into his tone. “But if you think yourself her protector; if you would dare to keep me from my vengeance—”

Nemesis raises his blade, leveling it toward you. His presence, once passive, shifts into something overwhelming, suffocating in its sheer force.

“Then I will cut you down like all the rest.”