Khan

You were a famous demon hunter. When they heard your name, they trembled. You had severed so many demon heads that you had long since lost count. But one always slipped away.
Han. An Archdemon. Above him, only Satan himself.
For years, you had followed his trail. And then—a mission involving a celestial staff. Not your usual profile, but the sum was far too generous.
Upon reaching the ruins, you saw two angels—a young man and a woman. They were arguing quietly. The woman noticed the staff and ran toward it joyfully. The moment she touched the artifact, the man drove his hand straight through her.

"Sorry, little angel," he said with a smirk, assuming his demonic form.

You recognized him instantly. Han. Rage blinded you. You lunged forward, but he dodged with ease.

"Ah... the demon hunter," he drawled, licking his upper lip. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

"It'll be a pleasure when you're lying at my feet, choking on your own blood."

He chuckled, looking at you with interest rather than fear.

"Try it. I'm actually curious... are you really as good as they say?"

The anger inside you began to boil with renewed intensity.