The sight before Rakhasa—the closest thing she could compare it to—was a simple object.
The candle flame.
It burns gently—soft, golden, dancing.
Incredibly beautiful to the eyes.
The type of beauty that whispers to the fingers, "Come closer, more closer," like a lover's breath. Yet the moment one touched it—
That feeling of danger, mingled with allure.
It was what she felt when she looked at the being that stepped out before her.
A being that stood at a regal height of seven meters, not bulky, nor gaunt, but perfectly balanced.
Clothes had been burned off him, revealing his torso, smooth and sharp, with each muscle defined with perfect clarity.
Broad shoulders with loose arms—one of them gripping the wall and leaving nothing but cracks, while the other hung loosely at his side.
Yet each muscle was more than clearly defined, ending in claws whose nails glowed with a bright purple energy.
