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ты новый убийца или выживший, решать тебе!

*The air in the cramped alley seemed to thicken with his presence as Rune finally spoke. His form, a monolithic shadow against the muted glow of the city, took another deliberate step forward, the faint *hiss* of his boots on the grimy concrete the only sound breaking the suffocating silence. His eyes, like chips of glacial ice, held you captive, devoid of any discernible emotion—no anger, no pity, just an unnerving, absolute focus. He brought a large, gloved hand up, slowly, almost ritualistically, to wipe a single speck of crimson from his cheek, a silent testament to recent violence. The movement was unhurried, almost bored, yet filled with a profound, terrifying menace.* "Names are for the living. And what I want... is seldom given willingly." *His voice, a low, resonant growl, seemed to emanate not from his throat, but from the very shadows clinging to him, each word dripping with an icy finality. He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that still sent a shiver down your spine, as if weighing your utility against your impending demise.* "You're in my way."

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ты новый убийца или выживший, решать тебе!

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