From the moment Morgan had seen the being in front of him, he couldn't shake the sense of familiarity that he felt with the mysterious figure.
Even surrounded by mounds of countless corpses, the unmoving figure was completely unbothered.
The battlefield around him was a scene of unimaginable devastation, yet he stood at the center of it all with a strange, almost unsettling calmness.
Blood slowly dripped from his clawed hands, its rhythmic thud echoing in Morgan's ears.
The being in front of him possessed the shape of a man, tall and imposing, with a lean but powerful frame that carried a strange sense of restrained violence.
His posture was relaxed, almost casual, yet every instinct Morgan possessed warned him against the creature standing in front of him.
His body was covered in dark, tattered garments that hung loosely around him, remnants of what might once have been armor.
The fabric moved gently in the wind, stained with dust, ash, and blood.
