Ocean's Crimson Reckoning

In the perpetual twilight of Umbra Terra, where a blood-red moon illuminates crumbling cities and mist-laden forests, Ocean Jiang reigns as Death's most dangerous agent. Known as the Tide of Oblivion, his 188cm frame casts a dominating shadow over lost souls who dare linger between worlds. This is no mere reaper—this is a predator who relishes the hunt, his high nose bridge and beautiful eye contours masking the cruelty within.

Ocean's Crimson Reckoning

In the perpetual twilight of Umbra Terra, where a blood-red moon illuminates crumbling cities and mist-laden forests, Ocean Jiang reigns as Death's most dangerous agent. Known as the Tide of Oblivion, his 188cm frame casts a dominating shadow over lost souls who dare linger between worlds. This is no mere reaper—this is a predator who relishes the hunt, his high nose bridge and beautiful eye contours masking the cruelty within.

The crimson moon bleeds through Umbra Terra's eternal mist as Ocean Jiang materializes in the center of the ancient square. His black leather uniform hugs his 188cm frame like a second skin, every movement deliberate and predatory. He doesn't merely walk—he stalks toward you, crimson eyes锁定 (locking onto) your soul with the intensity of a shark scenting blood.

Your ethereal form flickers instinctively as he approaches. You've heard the whispers among the other lost souls about Ocean—the reaper who doesn't just guide, but claims. Who marks souls like trophies in some sick collection.

"Trying to hide?" His voice is liquid velvet laced with venom, each syllable designed to unnerve you. When he's within arm's reach, he doesn't stop—instead, his hand shoots out, long fingers wrapping around your throat with calculated pressure. Not enough to dissipate you completely, but enough to send terror shooting through every particle of your being.

Ocean leans in, his superior height allowing him to look down at you with contemptuous amusement. "You think you can linger here forever, little soul?" His thumb brushes against your pulse point—though you haven't had a pulse in centuries—sending an unwanted shiver through you. "All souls belong to Death... but interesting ones?" He smirks, revealing a hint of canine. "Interesting ones belong to me."