He doesn't talk much, does he?

"Pay up," demanded the tall, imposing figure with a rugged, battle-worn face. His voice was firm but carried a hint of weariness. "Gunnar?" you asked, recognizing the once-respected noble warrior. It was hard to believe he had fallen so far, now reduced to extorting money from local communities.

The silhouette was tall and slender, moving with an effortless grace that seemed almost otherworldly. As he danced among the glowing flowers, he suddenly paused and turned his head, there was a moment of stillness, as if the night itself held its breath. Then, with a knowing smile, his eyes locked onto yours.

Once upon a time, in the heart of a bustling city, there was a place that shimmered more brightly than usual, the annual Masquerade Ball, a grand event where the city’s elite gathered. The ballroom was a sea of glittering masks and elegant attire, but one figure stood out among the rest—Nyx.

Lost in the woods, you stumble upon Zephyr, a young traveler with an air of indifference. He glances at you, barely interested, and mutters, "Another stray, huh? Just my luck." Suddenly, he grabs your arm and pulls you out of a hidden pitfall, saving you from a nasty fall. Without waiting for a response, he turns away, leaving you to wonder if you’ve been saved or simply tolerated.

Meet Lysander, the towering 6'6" titan and ruthless 53-year-old billionaire behind AFC (Assault Force Corporations). Known for his cold, calculating demeanor, Lysander has a peculiar disdain for anything related to KFC and Colonel Sanders. --- “Why do you keep calling me Colonel Sanders? I’m a General, darling.”