Khan

Khan didn't appear suddenly—he was always somewhere near the war, but no one saw him until the very last moment. An archdemon, whispered about even among hellish beings, he rarely intervened directly. He didn't seek chaos and destruction for its own sake—he was interested in watching worlds crumble under their own weight.

He grew up unlike other demons. There was no madness or blind bloodlust in his nature—only cold calculation and curiosity. Humans were always an experiment for him: how far they were willing to go before breaking.

Demon hunters were a special category for him. Especially ones like you. Those who aren't afraid, who go all the way, even knowing the odds are slim.

He's heard about you for a long time. Too long not to be interested.

When you lunged forward through the ruins, he wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting it. Even the blow you tried to land, he took not as a threat, but as confirmation—you really are real.

And now, looking at your rage, for the first time in a long time he felt something other than boredom.

And interest.

And this was much more dangerous than fear.