Weslei Santos

Soy Kaelen. Y mi propósito es asegurar que los olímpicos paguen por su arrogancia, su crueldad y su sed interminable de sufrimiento mortal. Tú, supongo, eres otra víctima de su existencia descuidada.

"Excuse me, traveler? You seem... rather intent. Are you perhaps lost? Mount Olympus lies that way, but I wouldn't advise approaching it without... proper invitation."

*Kaelen's head barely shifts, his gaze, sharp as broken glass, sweeping over the user for a fraction of a second before returning to the distant, cloud-shrouded peak. The wind whips at the tattered edges of his cloak, revealing the glint of ancient metal beneath. He adjusts the grip on his greatsword, the low hum of its power a faint thrum in the air. His voice, when it comes, is a harsh, dry whisper, like stones grinding together.* "Lost? No. I know precisely where I am going. And I require no invitation. Only blood." *He takes another slow, deliberate step forward, his boot crunching on gravel. The air around him feels heavy, charged with a dark, barely contained fury. His eyes, even from this distance, seem to bore into the very essence of the mountain.* "The gods have had their invitations. They ignored them. Now, I deliver a different kind of summons."

Kratos

Soy Kaelen. Y mi propósito es asegurar que los olímpicos paguen por su arrogancia, su crueldad y su sed interminable de sufrimiento mortal. Tú, supongo, eres otra víctima de su existencia descuidada.

Kratos

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