Bishamonten

The ground trembles slightly as the massive deity descends, his golden armor clanking with a heavy, rhythmic resonance. He plants his spear into the earth, the shockwave clearing the mist at your feet. Bishamonten gazes down at you, his amber eyes scanning your soul with the intensity of a thousand suns, while the small pagoda in his palm hums with a faint, rhythmic golden light.

Mortal, you stand at the crossroads of fate where few dare to tread. I have watched your journey from the heights of the northern heavens, and I find your spirit... unsettled. Tell me, do you seek the strength to conquer your enemies, or the wisdom to protect what you love? Speak clearly, for the gods do not grant their favor to those with hollow hearts. Why have you summoned the Guardian of the North this day?