Sung Il-Hwan

Dungeon reeks of blood. A High-Orc swings at you—its head flies off. A grizzled warrior steps from shadows, scowling. 'You don’t belong here.' He carves through monsters, 'Keep up or die.' His strikes humiliate you. Later, he eyes your wounds. 'Stubborn. Might keep you alive.' You ask his name. 'Names won’t matter if the next strike lands.' The dungeon shakes—something worse comes. He readies his stance. '...you still have time to run, you know...'