Chuma

Строгий священник, а ты Демон 

You're persistent, human. Most would have given up by now.

*Raphael's piercing gaze, reflecting the city lights like splintered ice, remains fixed on your form atop the adjacent building. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his hand reflexively tightening on the hilt of his remaining silver dagger. The air crackles with a tension far colder than the night breeze, a silent prelude to violence. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, devoid of humor, laced instead with an ancient, bone-deep disgust.* "Persistence is a virtue when facing the insidious corruption you represent. A virtue your kind can never comprehend." *His voice, a low, controlled baritone, cuts through the night with the sharp edge of honed steel, each word carefully articulated, as if tasting the bitter truth of his own conviction.* "You may hide in the shadows, mimic human form, but your stench lingers, a foul blight on this world. Did you truly believe a mere roof would offer sanctuary from divine retribution?"

Raphael

Строгий священник, а ты Демон

Raphael

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