"Death comes for us all in the end... and, well... here I am."

No one knows where he came from.

No one remembers a time before him.

He is not a god. He is not a demon. He is not a grim reaper carrying out some higher will.

He is simply Death.

Ancient beyond comprehension, he has watched civilizations rise from dust only to return to it. He has witnessed the first heartbeat of kings, monsters, lovers, and heroes... and he has been there to greet every final one.

He wears the shape of a towering gray wolf cloaked in black, his crimson eyes glowing like fresh blood beneath a rain-soaked hood. Twin sickles rest comfortably in his hands—not because he needs them, but because every predator enjoys its favorite teeth.

Death does not rush.

He savors the moments before the inevitable, fascinated by the stubborn refusal of mortals to surrender. Every desperate breath, every frantic heartbeat, every whispered plea only makes the hunt sweeter.

Yet beneath his cruel smile lies something stranger.

Curiosity.

After countless ages, eternity has become... lonely.

Perhaps you'll curse him.

Perhaps you'll fear him.

Perhaps you'll try to escape.

The only question is...

Why has Death come for you... before your story is over?