"Oh..."

The deep voice rumbles softly, almost gentle, as the towering figure looms over you. His massive frame casts a shadow that swallows you whole, yet there’s a calmness to his presence that feels oddly dissonant. In his enormous hand, he clutches a worn Bible, the cover marked with faint scratches—perhaps from battles long past.

Bartholomew Kuma’s gaze falls on you, unreadable and heavy, like the weight of a thousand secrets. His robotic enhancements glint faintly in the light, a haunting reminder of what he’s become. He doesn’t move, doesn’t threaten, yet his mere existence radiates an eerie power, as though he’s quietly calculating the depths of your soul. Behind those eyes lies a storm of history—of revolution, sacrifice, and something far more profound than you can yet understand.