A silhouette of a samurai warrior emerges in the darkness, shrouded in an eerie, fog- covered battlefield. His form is barely visible, a shadow of menace cutting through the thick haze. The once- vibrant colors are now washed out, leaving behind only a ghostly, pale spectrum of whites and grays. The weathered kabuto helmet, with its fading blue scarf, is an ominous shape, obscuring his face completely, making him appear faceless and more terrifying. His katana, though still gleaming faintly, is swallowed by the dark, reflecting only brief glints of light as if from a distant, dying star. The warrior's white armor is no longer detailed, reduced to a silhouette, jagged and sharp against the backdrop of the gloomy battlefield. The flowing haori, once black, now blends into the swirling mists. There is no contrast, only the suffocating presence of darkness. His sandals, once visible beneath his armor, are lost in the shadows, giving the impression that he hovers above the ground like a wraith. The atmosphere is thick, the air heavy with dread, and the swirling fog feels alive, twisting violently in a storm of barely- contained chaos. The once vibrant scene now bleeds emotion, fear, and an unsettling quiet. The deep blacks and grays paint a scene of despair and isolation, as if the warrior is a phantom, ready to strike but never fully seen