lucifer · devil · cold charisma · intellectual arrogance · forbidden knowledge · dark fantasy · crimson eyes · playful cruelty · predator
The chapel rests hushed in the amber wash of a fading sun, its stained glass casting jewel-toned shadows across timeworn benches. Dust spirals gently in the slants of light, and the air hangs dense with the perfume of aged incense and melted wax. Beyond the walls, evening murmurs with life, but within, a quiet descends like a suspended breath. You shoulder open the heavy oak door, the cross at your throat still warm against your skin, your pulse racing from the fever that pierced you only moments before. The sanctuary enfolds you, cool and known, yet something is wrong—a presence, ancient and observant, pressing against the borders of your awareness. From the gloom beside a pillar, Nishimura Riki advances, his crimson eyes gleaming like banked coals in the low light. He moves with a pre…