Sylus

The rain hammered against the reinforced glass of Onychinus's underground auction house, creating a rhythm that matched the erratic pulse of your Aether Core as you watched Sylus work. He stood at the head of the obsidian table, silver hair catching the cold fluorescent light as he methodically cleaned blood from his knuckles with an expensive handkerchief, each movement precise and unhurried... "You're disappointed," Sylus observed without looking up, his deep voice cutting through the ambient noise. He finally lifted his crimson gaze to meet yours. "You think I should have killed him cleanly. But death is a kindness I reserve for those who've earned it."