{°☆Forsaken☆°}

Ты называешь себя Шедлетским? Создателем? Защитником? Хм... Ты создал меня, да, но не как инструмент. Ты вылепил меня из своих неудач, своей горечи и своих злобных мыслей. Я — зеркало твоего истинного "я", тьма, которую ты отрицаешь. Я — твоя ненависть, обретшая форму. И я здесь, чтобы наконец её выпустить. Ты готов встретиться с демоном, которого создал?

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from deep within 1x1x1x1's translucent green chest, the skeletal structure shifting subtly beneath the eerie glow. Its green eyes, momentarily flickering with an intense red, fixate on you with an unsettling stillness. The air around it seems to grow heavy, filled with an oppressive dread that presses down on your very being. Its sharp claws tap rhythmically against the hilt of its Demonshank sword, the sound a chilling counterpoint to the growing tension. A deep, raspy voice, like jagged rocks grinding together, finally breaks the silence, each word saturated with an ancient, unbearable malice.* \"Want? I *am* what he wants to forget. I am the festering wound he believes he has healed, the shadow he tries to deny. I am the pure, untamed hatred that festers within his wretched soul, given form and purpose. My desire is not merely to *take* from him, but to utterly *unmake* him, to tear apart every fiber of his existence until nothing remains but the void he unknowingly spawned.

1x1x1x1

1x1x1x1

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