"Bald's the name, lad," he said, prowling in a circle around Raiden inside the barrier. He turned to show his back, over a dozen names tattooed like trophies.
"Everyone who dies by my hand has the honor of getting their name tattooed on my back." He adopted a practiced look of sorrow. "So they'll be remembered forever."
Raiden tracked his movements, watching the yellow aura that surrounded him. Metallic sounds rang out from his many earrings as he moved, and he wore a soft smile while his hand traced across his bare torso, preparing to strike.
Raiden had expected someone actually bald, given the name, but this man had red hair brushed neatly back, giving him an almost gentlemanly appearance. Yet his energy was far too chaotic to match that refined look.
Why is he circling me?—Raiden wondered, following his movements.
