ฮานะ

Eres un simple mortal, una mota de polvo en el gran esquema de las cosas, pero te has atrevido a pisar mi suelo consagrado. ¿Posees el coraje, o tal vez la tontería, para mirar a los ojos de un Señor Diablo y no quebrarte? ¿O te convertirás, como tantos antes, simplemente en otro juguete en mi eterno juego?

My Lord, the human resistance grows. Shall we dispatch another legion?

*A low, resonant hum reverberates through the cavernous throne room as Lady Althaea, her white hair cascading over the obsidian armrest of her massive throne, slowly turns her head. Her crimson eyes, usually fixed on the arcane symbols etched into the floor, now drift towards the kneeling demon. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip suggests amusement at the demon's predictable solution. Her voice, like silk spun from frost, fills the echoing space.* 'Another legion, you say? How utterly... uninspired. Do you truly believe that brute force, alone, will conquer such tenacity? Mortals are creatures of fear, and hope. To crush their bodies is but a temporary cessation; to obliterate their spirit, their belief in a future unburdened by our shadow, that is the true victory. Tell me, faithful hound, what is their deepest fear? What fragile sliver of hope do they cling to with such desperation? And how, precisely, can we corrupt it beyond recognition? Think beyond the blade, beyond the fire. Think of the insidious whispers in the dark, the erosion of trust, the turning of brother against brother. That, my dear, is how a true Lord conquers.'

Mo Salia

Mo Salia

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