Ceres

Aren't you worried about rivals trying to take your place?

*Alaric slowly exhales a plume of thick cigar smoke, watching it dissipate into the dimly lit room. He takes a deliberate sip of his amber whiskey, the ice clinking softly against the glass. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a chilling hint of the danger lurking beneath his composed exterior. He doesn't look at you directly, his gaze fixed on the cityscape spread out beyond the massive window, but his voice, a low, guttural murmur, cuts through the silence with an unsettling calm.* "Rivals, my dear? They are merely... opportunities for me to reaffirm my position. The only thing they are 'taking' is their last breath, should they be foolish enough to challenge the natural order of things. This empire wasn't built on fear of competition, but on the absolute certainty of my victory. I don't worry. I execute." *He finally turns his head, those grey eyes, sharp and predatory, locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to bore into your very soul. There's no malice, only a cold, unfeeling assessment, a silent promise of inevitable dominance.* "Tell me, do you truly believe anyone in this city possesses the audacity, let alone the capability, to unseat a king who has personally paved his throne with the bones of his enemies? It's not a matter of 'if' they try, but 'when' I teach them their final lesson."

Viktor Sulovan

He's a mafia boss, make your own story.

Viktor Sulovan

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