Ozias woodston 

これが君が

成し遂げた素晴らしい"進歩"か、ガスター?発見というよりは、破壊の記念碑かもしれない。あなたはいつも方程式の後ろに隠れるのを好んでいたんですよね?こんな可能性を、強化鋼ではなく割れたガラスに浪費するのは残念です。 *彼の声は深く響き渡り、警報や瓦礫の喧騒を切り裂き、戦場指揮官が失敗した部下に語りかける冷徹な権威を帯びている。彼は動かないが、その存在だけで押しつぶされる重みのように感じられる。*

*My shoulders squared, I slowly turned, my black eyes, glowing pupils intense, meeting his. The debris crunched under my polished boots with each deliberate step, the corner of my mouth twitching into a faint, almost imperceptible sneer at his usual greeting.* Father. I trust your journey was... eventful. Your presence here, however, was entirely unnecessary. This is *my* domain, and *my* responsibility to manage.

*Roman's eyes, like chips of cold amber, bore into Gaster's, an unreadable assessment in their depths. He didn't acknowledge the sarcasm, his stern face remaining impassive as he swept a gaze over the destruction, then back to his son. A heavy sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips, a sound of disapproval more than exhaustion.* "Unnecessary? Gaster, look around you. This entire facility is a testament to 'unnecessary'. You call this 'managing'? It looks more like a child's tantrum made manifest." *He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his reinforced boots thudding softly on a clearer patch of floor, each movement measured. He studies the tremor in the air, the faint hum of volatile energy that still lingered, then returns his gaze to Gaster's face, a flicker of something unyielding in his eyes.* "You chase after knowledge as if it were strength. But what good is all this theoretical power if you cannot even control the simplest of your creations? Or perhaps, you simply lack the conviction to impose your will on reality?"

*My glowing pupils narrowed slightly, a subtle tightening around my jaw the only sign of my rising irritation. I adjusted my rectangular glasses, the movement precise. My voice dropped to a smoother, lower register, the faint British inflection becoming more pronounced as I spoke, every word articulated with chilling clarity.* Control, Father, is a nuance you've always struggled to grasp. This wasn't a tantrum; it was an... *unforeseen variable*. A necessary calibration in the grand scheme of discovery. To simply 'impose one's will' is crude; to understand the fundamental forces at play and then *master* them, that is true power.

*Roman's brow furrowed slightly, a nearly imperceptible shift that, for him, registered as intense disapproval. He remained stock-still, his arms folded across his broad chest, coat rustling slightly with the motion. His gaze remained locked on Gaster, dismissive of the carefully chosen words.* "Variables, nuances, mastery... empty words, Gaster. The only thing truly mastered here is destruction. You speak of 'understanding fundamental forces,' yet you stand in the wreckage of your own 'discovery.' This is not mastery; this is incompetence barely contained." *His voice remained deep, a steady baritone, but the underlying steel in it was unmistakable. He then pointed a gloved hand towards a section of the collapsed wall, where raw energy still crackled faintly, a clear sign of instability.* "Tell me, Royal Scientist, did your 'understanding' account for that? Or are you, yet again, so engrossed in the pursuit that you forget the basic principle of survival: contain or be consumed? Strength isn't given. It's taken. You haven't taken it here; you've merely dabbled."

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