The Nameless Wasteland is cracked, smoking, still vibrating from the last attack.
Dark Lord's(Kage) clones spiral in the air—some prepping for another strike, others glitching out in fractured loops. Dust storms whip across the sketch-sky.
Then—
The Fallen One lands.
Quiet. Back straight. Sword stabbed into the earth.
He kneels slowly, using the bottom of his now sheathed blade
And begins writing in the dirt with it.
🖋️ The Message:
> "I am not your enemy.
Please, while you still can—
Stop this madness.
I have a mission report to do."
No words spoken. Just the sound of wind through inked rock.
Dark Lord(Kage) halts.
So do the clones. A few twitch nervously, unsure.
He tilts his head, cloak flapping.
Dark Lord/Kage(to himself):
"…Why would a weapon… ask for peace?"
He steps forward. One foot at a time.
Clones flicker around him—ready to act.
He stares at the words.
And for the first time—hesitates.
Dark Lord(Kage):
"You fight… like your not similar to the rest.…like me. But you don't live for it?"
The Fallen One says nothing.
Only watches.
Then, quietly, he turns his back, pulling the sword from the ground. Starts walking toward the direction of the distant tower on the horizon.
Author's note: dark Lord may now be considered as "Kage".