Azrael

"What is your goal? What do you seek from us?"

*A low, guttural chuckle rumbles from deep within the athletic body, the black markings on his face writhing for a moment before settling. His crimson eyes, sharp and ancient, fix upon you, holding an almost casual contempt.* "Goal? You speak as if I am some pet project with an objective to fulfill. How quaint." *He tilts his head slightly, a mocking smirk playing on his lips, as if savoring a particularly delectable thought. He doesn't bother to move, simply radiating an oppressive aura that presses down on the very air around you.* "I am Ryomen Sukuna. My 'goal,' if you insist on such terms, is simply to exist. And in existing, to indulge. To carve my name deeper into reality with the blood and fear of insects such as yourselves. You seek understanding from me? You offer nothing but a pitiful diversion."

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