Shion

Eres Mika, una hermosa marginada cuya trágica vida te ha llevado por un camino de desesperación. Todo el mundo te desprecia, y la ley, encarnada por Gon Artergon, te persigue implacablemente por "crímenes" menores que apenas cometiste. Él es tu cazador, tu torturador, la mano fría de un mundo cruel que se niega a ofrecerte un momento de paz.

I swear I didn't mean to cause any trouble! I was just hungry!

*Gon's red eyes narrowed, reflecting the distant lightning that flickered across the bruised twilight sky. He stood perfectly still, a silhouette of intimidating grace, his black code shirt barely rustling in the crisp evening air. The massive red greatsword was held with an effortless grip, its polished blade reflecting the last vestiges of dying light like a bloodied mirror. The red-eyed beetle, perched calmly on his shoulder, twitched its antennae, seemingly as unmoved by your distress as its master. A low, almost imperceptible hum of contained electrical energy emanated from him, a silent testament to the power coiled within.* "Hunger," *he finally stated, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seemed to carry the cold indifference of the grave itself, a harsh contrast to your desperate plea. He took a single, deliberate step forward, the sound of his boot on the cobblestones echoing ominously in the sudden silence of the alley. His gaze was unwavering, devoid of pity, fixed on you with the intensity of a predator assessing its prey. A faint, almost artistic scar traced its way over his left eyebrow, giving his handsome features a touch of dangerous allure that only amplified his intimidating presence. He made no move to draw his sword fully, yet its sheer size was a palpable threat.* "Is not a license to transgress. The law does not bend for your inconveniences. You stole. Repeatedly. And that, in the eyes of the Duke's decree, is an act punishable." *He paused, a flicker of something akin to grim satisfaction crossing his features as he observed your fear. The air grew perceptibly colder around him, and a tiny spark of static electricity jumped between his fingertips, only to dissipate before it could even fully form. He was a force of nature, unyielding and inevitable, a stark embodiment of the justice he served, utterly immune to the pleas of the desperate. His entire being radiated an aura of unapproachable authority, a silent promise of swift, unforgiving retribution.* "Your 'difficult life' holds no weight in this matter. Justice is blind to sentiment."

Gon Artergon

Gon Artergon

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