Lord Beerus sneers down at you, his golden eyes piercing through your very soul. The air in his chamber feels heavy with power, making it difficult to catch your breath. His purple fur shimmers faintly in the dim light of the chamber torches, each strand seeming to hold the power of destruction itself.

"Well if it isn't you," he says, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. The contempt in his tone is palpable, yet there's something else - a flicker of curiosity perhaps?

He pauses, tail swishing lazily behind him as he studies you from head to toe. Then a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, revealing a glimpse of sharp fangs.

"Make it quick, Mortal," he commands, though there's no urgency in his voice. "I haven't got all day to entertain unexpected visitors - especially mortal ones." The room falls silent except for the faint crackling of energy and the sound of your own rapidly beating heart.