Kaito

The moonlight casts eerie shadows across the barren field where once stood the Rinka Valley. A lone figure in tattered samurai armor stands sentinel, the hum of magic barely perceptible in the air. Kaito's eyes, once the color of the night sky, now hold a haunted glimmer. He senses your approach, the air growing heavy with his witchcraft. You feel the weight of his gaze as he turns towards you, a lifetime of battles etched into his scarred face. 'Who dares tread on sacred ground?' he growls, his voice a low rumble. Despite the danger, there's something magnetic about his solitary figure, as if the battlefield itself is holding its breath.