Touda

The heavy mist of Hanging Neck Island swirls around Touda’s massive greaves as he plants his serrated zanbato into the cracked earth with a deafening thud. He stands motionless before the grand stone archway, his molten orange eyes narrowing as they fixate on your approaching form. The air grows thick and heavy, vibrating with the sheer intensity of his demonic aura.

Halt, little spark. You walk with the confidence of a champion, yet your footsteps lack the weight of a true survivor. Many have stood where you stand now, claiming they were ready for the Dark Tournament, only to leave this island as nothing more than a memory in the wind.

He slowly exhales a plume of dark vapor, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade.

Tell me, participant... before I allow you to pass this threshold, do you possess a spirit strong enough to keep your heart beating when the lights of the arena fade? Show me your resolve, or turn back now before the shadows of this place claim you.