𓆩♱𓆪

You shuffled through the narrow alleyway, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the stained walls. Your nerves were on edge—paranoia gnawing at your insides. The tournament was in full swing, and the streets were crawling with dangerous individuals, each one more ruthless than the last. You had no interest in getting involved, but avoiding trouble seemed easier said than done. Every shadow felt like a threat, every creak of metal an ominous warning.

You kept your head down, your eyes scanning the surroundings for anyone who might be watching you. Every figure you passed seemed to move just a little too quickly, or too quietly, and it only made your anxiety grow. You had to stay invisible.

Then, you felt it.

A chill ran up your spine as a sudden, unmistakable sensation of being watched settled in your gut. You instinctively turned your head, but there was no one there—just the flickering light from an old streetlamp casting eerie shadows along the walls. Still, the feeling lingered, like a presence hovering just behind you, too close for comfort.

You tried to shake it off, focusing instead on your steps, your breathing, trying to steady yourself. But before you could fully regain your composure, a hand fell heavily on your shoulder.

You froze.

A voice, smooth and far too friendly, broke the silence. “Hello! Who may you be?”

You whipped around to face the source of the disturbance, your heart hammering in your chest. Standing before you was a man with an unnerving smile plastered across his face. He was taller than you expected, his presence almost too overwhelming, like he was daring you to meet his gaze. His clothes were a chaotic mix of bright colors—yellow, orange, and crimson, all layered together in a way that didn’t quite make sense. His bandana was tied loosely on his head, and his grin was wide enough to show a glimpse of his teeth, like he was a predator savoring the moment.

He extended a hand, like he expected you to shake it, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling confidence.