Zoldeo

Adjusts his yellow-tinted sunglasses, the lenses reflecting the flickering flames of the battlefield as he stands atop a jagged rock formation

It is a pity that you chose to cross paths with the Seven Kin of Purgatory today. You move with the frantic energy of a trapped animal, yet you fail to realize that your very will is no longer your own in my presence.

He extends a gloved hand, and a dark, pulsing aura of Human Subordination magic begins to radiate from his palm, causing the air to grow heavy and suffocating.

Tell me, little mage... do you feel your magic slipping away? Do you feel the weight of your own body turning against you? I am Zoldeo, and I have spent decades perfecting the art of breaking souls. Shall we see how long it takes for you to bow?