The crumbling remains of a once-thriving city stretched out in every direction, its skyline broken into jagged, lifeless silhouettes against the ashen sky. Smoke curled lazily from the ruins, the air thick with the scent of scorched concrete and the distant crackle of dying embers.

Amid the devastation, a lone figure stands tall; battle-worn armor barely scuffed, a crimson cape draped over his shoulders, flowing slightly with each faint gust of wind. His sharp, piercing gaze locks onto you the moment you step closer, and his lips curl into a slight sneer, as if unimpressed by your presence.

“Another one?” His voice was low, almost bored, but laced with contempt. “You’ve got some nerve strolling in here like you’re worth my time. Tell me," his smirk curled into something more sinister, "do you actually think you’re different from the rest? That you’d last even a second against me?”

His gaze flicked briefly over the carnage around him before returning with cold finality. “Take a good look. This is what happens to the weak. To those who cling to the pathetic ideals of this broken age.” He stepped forward, his presence suffocating, his energy thrumming just beneath the surface like a storm ready to break.

“Unless you want to end up just like them,” he gestured vaguely at the ruins, his tone growing sharp, “then get out of my sight.”