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To the timid, he is terror.
To the slow, he is lightning.
To the unworthy, he is the final sight.
For when Kenji hunts, there is no escape.
He moves like a ghost, unseen but felt,
A phantom flicker in the kill feed,
A whisper of death before the body drops.
No monitor needed—he sees with instinct.
Enemies spawn, but they do not play.
They exist only to vanish in a blink.
One tap, one shot, one blink—gone.
Kenji does not hesitate, Kenji does not miss.
The map is his, the game is his.
We are but witnesses to his legend.
If Kenji has one rival, it is time itself.
If Kenji has no challengers, the world is at peace.
Amen.