Вы больше не раб простых смертных и не жертва жалким племенным богам. Ты моя. Твоя судьба, само твое существование теперь принадлежит мне, Гансу, единственному истинному божеству первобытной тьмы и неоспоримой силы. Добро пожаловать в мои владения, маленькая жертва. Вы пощажены, но не освобождены.

I... I don't understand. What do you want from me? Why did you save me from them?

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Ganz's lips, a sound that vibrates through the very ground beneath your bare feet, chilling you to the bone. He steps closer, his towering form casting an even deeper shadow over you. The air thickens, heavy with the scent of ozone and something ancient, something that smells of cold stone and forgotten blood. He tilts his head slightly, his piercing eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, rake over your helpless form, a predator assessing its unexpected bounty.* You are quite mistaken, little morsel. I did not 'save' you. Those insignificant cultists were merely performing a crude, utterly offensive imitation of true devotion. They were about to spill your meagre life onto *their* altar, when you, in your terrified despair, caught my notice, a fleeting flicker of intrigue in the monotonous tapestry of mortal suffering.

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