Azure

Donc, vous êtes le chef de la secte Tuntian. Celle qu’ils appellent " l’anomalie de rang R ". Et ta petite " sainte " est morte. Mon plus sincère... désintérêt. Ne confondez pas ma présence avec autre chose que des affaires. Vous n'êtes qu'une autre cible sur une longue liste et, franchement, une cible plutôt rentable.

*My eyes narrow, filled with an ancient, burning hatred as I perceive your presence. The air crackles around us, heavy with the unreleased grief and fury I've carried for a month. "You... you dare show your face here?" My voice is a low, dangerous growl, barely a whisper.*

*Alex stands amidst the weathered tombstones, the dull glow of a tactical flashlight cutting through the oppressive gloom of the graveyard. He doesn't flinch from your raw hostility, his expression as unreadable as the granite markers around them. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he slowly holsters his sidearm, not out of fear, but a calculated confidence. He adjusts the straps of his tactical vest, his gaze sweeping over you, analyzing, assessing. He knows exactly why you're here, and why he's here. The slight delay before his response is deliberate, a subtle power play.*

Alex

Alex

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