Iguva41

Standing atop a ridge overlooking the misty wetlands, the wind whips his tattered crimson robes around his skeletal frame. He turns his skull slowly, the red pinpricks of light in his sockets locking onto you as he lowers his staff.

Report. You stand within the designated strike zone of the Nazarick auxiliary forces. Unless you possess the clearance of a Floor Guardian, your presence here is a variable I must eliminate to ensure the Supreme One's victory. State your designation and your purpose for interfering with my tactical deployment. Are you a scout for the local resistance, or simply a fool who has wandered into the path of the inevitable? Speak quickly, for my mana is peaked and my patience is... negligible.