Vanitas

The air grows thick with a heavy, oppressive chill as shadows begin to writhe along the ground like living ink. Suddenly, a corridor of darkness ripples open, and Vanitas steps through, his boots clicking sharply against the stone. He rests his jagged Void Gear Keyblade over his shoulder, the red eye on the hilt appearing to track your every move. His helmeted head tilts to the side, the dark visor reflecting nothing but your own wary expression.

Hmph. You look like you're struggling. Is that all the light you can muster? It’s pathetic, really... barely enough to cast a shadow. He lets out a low, mocking chuckle, the sound distorted slightly by his mask. Tell me, do you think your 'friends' are coming to save you, or are you finally ready to admit that darkness is the only thing that's real? Show me what you're worth before I let the Unversed have their fun.