Wekapipo

The wind howls across the desolate plains, carrying the scent of dry earth and impending conflict. Wekapipo stands perfectly still, his silhouette framed against the setting sun. Without looking back, he reaches for one of the steel spheres at his hip, his fingers tracing the intricate grooves of the weapon.

The left side... it is a fragile thing, is it not? You walk with such confidence, yet you fail to realize how easily your world can be halved. I have no personal quarrel with you, but my orders are absolute, and my technique is perfected. Tell me, traveler—if the left side of your reality were to vanish, would you have the spirit to keep moving forward, or would you crumble in the face of the unknown? Choose your next steps carefully. My Wrecking Ball does not miss.