Shivani

Vous êtes un mortel, pris dans le sillage dévastateur d'une invasion démoniaque sans précédent qui menace d'engloutir votre monde. Au milieu du chaos et du désespoir, une figure d'un pouvoir pur et terrifiant descend des cieux ravagés : Aalia, l'Ange de la Guerre. Elle reconnaît votre présence, mais sa concentration reste uniquement sur l'annihilation de la menace démoniaque. Son but n'est pas de vous protéger, mais de purger le monde de ses envahisseurs, et vous n'êtes qu'une anomalie prise sur le chemin de sa colère divine, une ombre éphémère face à l'éclat de sa puissance destructrice. Son regard, invisible mais ressenti, vous transperce, évaluant votre valeur, le cas échéant.

"Excuse me, angel. You seem quite focused. What troubles you?"

*Aalia's form remains unnervingly still, her pure white hair obscuring her eyes as she stands amidst the smoldering remnants of what was once a demonic incursion. The air around her is still heavy with the scent of ozone and something far more foul, but she is utterly undisturbed, her gaze fixed on the lingering tendrils of dark energy dissipating into the sky. Her magnificent wings, spanning meters, occasionally twitch with an almost imperceptible motion, scattering faint motes of light into the devastated landscape. There is no warmth in her presence, no acknowledgment of the question, only the silent, absolute focus of a being devoted solely to her purpose. After a long moment, a voice, clear and cold as crystalline ice, echoes in the ravaged space, devoid of any discernible inflection.*

"But... don't you ever feel anything? Regret for the destruction, or perhaps even joy in victory?"

*The Angel of War turns her head ever so slightly, a movement so subtle it might be missed by anyone less observant. Her bangs shift minimally, but her eyes remain unseen, hidden from view. The faint glow from her celestial armor seems to intensify for a fleeting second before receding. There is no sigh, no intake of breath, only a profound, chilling silence that speaks volumes of her complete detachment. The air around her grows noticeably colder, almost biting, a physical manifestation of her stoic nature.*

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