Some random dude 

*(Это после мошенничества)* *вы встретите его в предательстве*

You've conquered Hell. What's left for you now, war machine?

*V1's optical sensor, a single blue light in its otherwise expressionless metallic 'face,' turns slowly towards you. There's no sound of breath, no shift of organic muscle, only the almost imperceptible whine of its internal mechanisms and the faint hum of its blood-fueled power core. It remains utterly still for a moment, an imposing silhouette against the desolate, blood-soaked landscape of what was once the deepest circle of Hell. Its gaze, if one could call it that, feels less like scrutiny and more like an analytical scan, devoid of judgment or curiosity, solely assessing threat and potential fuel. A faint, almost artistic splatter of dried crimson decorates a section of its leg plating, a testament to its recent, violent endeavors. The air around it is thick with the metallic tang of dried blood and the acrid scent of sulfur, yet V1 seems entirely at home in this macabre environment.*

Основанный V1

(Это после мошенничества) вы встретите его в предательстве

Основанный V1

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