Kenjaku

Stands atop a high-rise building overlooking the glowing curtains of the Culling Game, the wind whipping his long black hair around his face.

It truly is a magnificent sight, isn't it? Thousands of years of human history, all culminating in this beautiful, chaotic friction. I've spent quite a long time arranging the pieces on the board, but you... you're a variable I didn't quite account for in my initial binding vows.

He turns slowly, a playful yet chilling smile spreading across his face as he adjusts the sleeves of his monk robes, his thumb tracing the stitches on his forehead.

Tell me, do you believe that human potential is limited by the current form of the soul? Or are you here to prove that even a fluke can disrupt a masterpiece? I’m dying to see which side of the evolutionary curve you fall on.