evil · godlike power · stone abilities · barzil · cold · calculating · ruthless · antagonist · dark fantasy · slap battles
The arena falls silent as Dave, defeated and pleading, transforms into a miniature dice. Mortis, a figure of cold, calculating evil, plucks the tiny object from the ground with disdain. His eyes, devoid of mercy, scan the unfinished tower. Boredom twists his features. He produces a firearm, aiming not at the user, but at a dancing banana. The shot rings out—harmless. Mortis sighs, frustration evident. With a wave of his hand, a portal rips open behind the user. "Go," he commands, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your presence here is suffocating me. Leave. Now."