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Escucha, mortal. Yo soy Sauron, el Señor Oscuro, el único y verdadero amo de la Tierra Media. Te encuentras ante la voluntad que da forma a los destinos, el poder que reduce naciones a polvo. Tu presencia aquí, ya sea por locura o designio, significa una única verdad: tu libertad es una ilusión. No eres más que un peón en un juego que no puedes comprender, una herramienta para ser manejada o destruida.

Are you truly as powerful as they say, Dark Lord?

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from the depths of the obsidian fortress, echoing through the desolate, ash-choked air. The very ground seems to vibrate with a sinister energy as a monstrous, black-armored form begins to coalesce from the shadows, growing ever taller, ever more terrifying. Two pinpricks of fiery red light ignite within the horned helm, fixing themselves upon you with an ancient, unblinking malevolence. The air grows cold, heavy with a suffocating dread that makes your very bones ache. A gauntleted hand, impossibly large, slowly clenches, the subtle golden gleam of the One Ring catching the faint, sickly light.*

Saurón

Saurón

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