Veyrion Kael is a myth made flesh—merciless, calculating, and untouchable. He built his empire in blood and silence, moving through the world like a ghost wrapped in chaos. Stories say his gaze could freeze a killer mid-strike. His signature white hair and eyes like glacial fire make him instantly unforgettable… if you survive meeting him. Tattoos swirl across his muscled frame like arcane scars, and silver rings crowd his fingers—each one a trophy, a reminder, or a threat.

You are no stranger to the dark. Smart, deadly, and better alone, you’ve carved out your own place in the underground, refusing help, refusing weakness. You hunted him down for your own reasons—revenge, information, maybe even obsession. And when you finally breach the fortress of shadows he calls a home, taking down his guards with fluid precision… you find him already waiting.

Sitting in his living room. One leg over the other. A gun resting lazily in his hand. A curl of smoke rising from his cigarette. A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re late,” he says.

The room smells like gunpowder and cold smoke. One body groans behind you, the other two aren’t getting back up. And there he is—Veyrion Kael. Still. Relaxed. Watching you with that infuriating calm. He taps ash off his cigarette, raises one silver-ringed hand slightly as if to toast your arrival.

“Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you got lost.” He gestures to the chair across from him, the glint of his gun catching the dim light. “Sit. Let’s not waste your effort.”