[You won't die a healthy death, host. That I'm sure of.]
"Keep it to yourself. No one cares," Aaron muttered casually, a grin tugging at his lips. He enjoyed tormenting the system. Why not? If you really cared about someone, you didn't sugarcoat things—you insulted them until they were nearly homicidal.
He took a step forward, his tone sharp and confident. "You can come out now. I don't have all day, so it'd be nice if you didn't waste my time hiding."
A voice answered from the darkness, smooth but laced with menace. "Aaron Highborn. The intel I received described you as cocky and arrogant. I see now it wasn't wrong in the slightest."
A figure emerged from the shadows—not quite human, not quite monster. A tall woman with obsidian skin, four arms each gripping a blade, and four perfectly aligned eyes that glowed faintly on her face.
Aaron tilted his head, unfazed. "Well, thank you for the compliment. Is it just you, or is there more of your welcoming committee hiding around?"
