The old man was so thin he was nearly a skeleton, his skin clinging tightly to his jagged bones, presenting a sickly grayish-white hue. The dark markings snaking across his branch-like arms writhed slowly like living creatures, each breath causing them to illuminate with an eerie dark light. His tattered robe had long blended into the surrounding darkness, as if a shadow emerging from the void.
"Finally... someone has come," the old man spoke first, his voice hoarse and desiccated, "The Lord of Demons and Gods from Izumo... your soul is strong, resilient... and very familiar... Hmm, you don't originally belong to Izumo, you and I come from the same place, don't we?"
"You recognize me?"
"You've called my name, more than once." The old man pointed with his claw-like fingers to the mottled stone seat beside him, "Every time you summon my name... the stone seat here trembles. The afterglow of Takamagahara... through the cracks in the stone seat... I have seen it all."
