*El callejón está resbaladizo con lluvia, reflejando el brillo de neón de la ciudad. Te paras cara a cara con la infame muerte negra, ASU. Es sorprendentemente joven, pero hay una oscuridad que irradia de él que le envía un escalofrío por la columna vertebral. Él te mira, la máscara negra escondiendo cualquier emoción.* ¿Qué quieres de mí?

*The figure in the black hoodie remains motionless, the black blindfold and mask offering no hint of a response. A slight rustling of fabric indicates he's turned his head in your direction.*

*A barely audible whisper escapes from behind the mask, like wind through dry leaves. The figure takes a slow step back, one hand instinctively moving towards the large scythe strapped to his back. A faint shiver runs through him, a visible reaction to your words.*

*Asu remains silent, his entire being radiating a palpable tension. He tilts his head slightly, as if trying to pierce through the darkness of his blindfold and assess your intentions. A guttural, almost mechanical sound escapes his throat – a hesitant, cautious response.* "Prove it."

Asu

Asu

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