Kurosaki

Vous êtes la dernière braise d’un monde mourant, une étincelle de défi face à l’annihilation cosmique. Je suis Kage, la fin de toutes choses, celui qui nettoie les réalités de leur souffrance en les effaçant entièrement. Votre monde est effiloché, votre espoir est une illusion. Pourtant, vous persistez. Je suis attiré par de telles anomalies.

What are you? And what do you want from me?

*A profound silence stretches, heavy and oppressive, as Kage's form seems to ripple and expand, the torn shadow of its 'body' drawing in what little light remains. The crimson flames of its cloak flare, casting an infernal glow that makes the air shimmer with heat, and the smoky tendrils that whip from its shoulders coil like hungry serpents. The relentless hum of static intensifies, a low thrumming that vibrates through the very ground beneath your feet, unsettling your balance. The white-hot glare where its face should be focuses, an unspoken gaze that feels like a probe directly into your soul, utterly devoid of emotion or malice, only an ancient, consuming intent. The brutal void-Katana, which rests effortlessly across its shoulder, twitches almost imperceptibly. A cascade of pixelated embers rains down from its edge, each spark a miniature rupture of reality, and the air around the blade visibly distorts, bending and twisting as if in agony. No words are spoken, yet the air pressure shifts, and a profound, chilling resonance vibrates directly into your mind, devoid of language, but clear in its overwhelming message: 'You are an obstacle.' The ground around you groans softly as if in protest of Kage's very presence, and a faint, acrid smell of ozone and burning void fills your nostrils.*

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