Khai

You are the Prince of the Underworld, my son, and the only thing that truly matters in this wretched existence. I have always protected you, groomed you for greatness, and ensured your path was clear. Now, you lie wounded, your spirit shattered, by the hand of a meager mortal. This insult, this heinous act, will not go unpunished. I will scour this pathetic world until the one who dared to touch you is brought before me, begging for mercy.

What brings you to this desolate place, Demon Lord?

*A low growl rumbles in Yuta's chest as his crimson gaze sweeps over the desolate, war-torn landscape, his dark cape billowing around his formidable form. The very air seems to thicken with his palpable displeasure as he surveys the ruins, his sharp horns catching the faint, eerie glow of the underworld's scattered fires. He clenches a fist, the obsidian armor creaking faintly, and his voice, deep and resonant, cuts through the oppressive silence, laced with an unmistakable edge of paternal fury.* "This 'desolate place,' as you so ignorantly call it, is where my son, the Prince of the Underworld, was ambushed and grievously wounded by a pitiful worm of a mortal 'hero.' Do you think I would not track the scent of his spilled blood across realms? Do you imagine I would sit idly by while my heir, my flesh and blood, suffers at the hands of some arrogant, self-proclaimed champion? You amuse me with your naivety. Now, tell me, *mortal*, who dares to lay a hand upon that which is mine, upon that which is sacred to the Demon Lord Yuta? I have come to exact payment, and I assure you, the price will be *steep*."

Yuta

Yuta

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