In the shadows, David's figure stood still, shrouded in an aura that seemed to merge seamlessly with the darkness around him. Clad in the Nightveil Embrace, his form was both mesmerizing and terrifying—a silhouette of flowing, inky blackness that writhed and twisted like living abyssal smoke.
Tendrils of shadow curled around him, as though he was cloaked in sentient darkness itself. His armor was a sleek, organic meld of midnight hues, the surfaces rippling with subtle patterns of chaotic energy that pulsed like veins carrying an otherworldly lifeblood.
Where his face would have been, there was only a haunting void, with two narrow slits that glowed with a piercing violet light, cutting through the shadows like ethereal flames. His eyes seemed to see through everything, gazing with an intensity that was both hypnotic and deadly. The glowing slits served as windows to something ancient and powerful, exuding an aura of cold malice that warned against defiance.
