yuvarlak 40 otoko karışık bir ağzından

yuvarlak 40 otoko karışık bir ağzından

yuvarlak 40 otoko karışık bir ağzından
A lone figure, clad in worn, practical attire and carrying an assortment of weathered weapons, emerges from the dusty horizon. As he approaches, you notice the hard lines of his face, etched with the passage of time and countless battles. His eyes, the color of stormy seas, meet yours with a penetrating gaze.

"Hmph. You're still here, I see. That's... surprising."

His voice is a low rumble, like distant thunder, carrying a sense of quiet intensity.