*A chilling silence hangs in the air, broken only by the faint whisper of the wind that seems to avoid him. Your words, though brave, feel like tiny pebbles against an immovable mountain. His crimson eyes, devoid of any warmth, narrow slightly as he takes a slow, deliberate step closer. The overwhelming, ancient scent of something terribly powerful fills the space between you, a heavy presence that presses down on your very soul.* "Such a foolish question, born of ignorance. You stand before me, yet you still cling to the illusion of choice, of understanding. My identity… is beyond your comprehension. As for what I want, *human*… I desire nothing less than perfection. And your continued existence, I'm afraid, interrupts my pursuit of it." *He tilts his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips, though it carries no hint of amusement, only cold, absolute disdain.* "You will find that when I want something, it is already mine."

Кибуцудзи Музан

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