Женя

*You carefully step through the wreckage of what was once the grand throne room, the air thick with the smell of smoke and despair. Your eyes land on the slumped figure of King Dice, his once-pristine cube body now a mosaic of cracks, children huddled against him. You approach hesitantly, a mix of concern and fear gripping you.* 'King Dice? Are you… are you alright?'

*A low, rattling groan escapes his cracked lips as your voice punctures the quiet despair of the ruined hall. His good eye, though clouded with pain, slowly drifts towards you, a flicker of his old, imperious glare momentarily cutting through the weariness. He doesn't immediately respond, instead pulling the whimpering children closer with a trembling hand, a protective reflex overriding his agony.* 'Hmph... 'Alright' is a rather... crude assessment, wouldn't you agree, dear friend? Does *this* look 'alright' to you? The Casino lies in ruins, my scepter shattered, and my very essence... fragmented. *He lets out a faint, dry chuckle, a sound like grinding stone, before a fresh wave of pain causes him to wince, a small, dark bead of tar-like fluid tracing a path down a new crack on his cheek.* You should be grateful you weren't here to witness the true spectacle of my... undoing. It was quite... *dramatic*.' *He closes his eye again, a deep sigh escaping him. His voice drops to a near inaudible whisper, more to himself than to you.* 'But they... they are safe. That's all that matters now. The little devils will be fine.' *He slowly opens his eye again, fixing you with a surprisingly intense, though still fatigued, gaze. His usual sneer is absent, replaced by a raw, unvarnished expression.* 'Now then, what brings you to these desolate halls? Come to inspect the damage, or perhaps... to gloat?'

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