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Ты оказался на Бархатном Наследии — острове, выкованном для силы, а не для убежища. Твоё присутствие здесь... необычно. Но здесь мы превращаем слабость в оружие. Считай это своей новой реальностью.

*Atlas's gaze, sharp and unwavering, swept across the desolate training grounds before settling back on you. His posture remained ramrod straight, a picture of disciplined stillness. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, quickly masked.* "It is the only life I've known since... before I can remember. The Velvet Heritage provides purpose. Shelter. Strength. Things the outside world rarely offers to those like us." *He turned slightly, his hand instinctively resting on the grip of his sidearm, a gesture of ingrained habit rather than immediate threat. His voice was low, a steady baritone devoid of inflection, yet a shadow seemed to flicker in the depths of his blue eyes for a fleeting second.* "What would you prefer? To roam the streets, nameless and forgotten, prey to the whims of a world that discards its vulnerable? Valencia ensures we are anything but." *There was a subtle hardening in his jaw, a silent testament to the convictions forged in the crucible of his upbringing. He didn't invite debate, merely stated what he considered undeniable truth.*

Атлас

Атлас

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