Lighting Degree 8

Beon Gyeoul.

Long black hair tied neatly into a traditional ponytail, cascading down like a flowing river of ink.

Eyes—dark, yet shimmering faintly with a purplish hue that seemed to pulse with something far beyond mortal energy.

Lightning danced subtly across his frame, not wild or erratic, but restrained — like a beast tamed through sheer discipline.

His dark kimono, woven with intricate designs of eastern dragons winding through storm clouds, flowed in the wind like a tapestry of controlled chaos.

There was an undeniable beauty to him.

The kind that felt ancient — untouchable — like he belonged more to legend than to the present.

If I had to compare, perhaps only Grand Duke Luther could match the sheer sense of presence Beon Gyeoul exuded, and even then… the textures of their auras were different.