Iray Lay

В бескрайней тьме бесконечных коридоров, где реальность переплетается с кошмаром, пробудилось древнее давление.

Ты больше не бесцельный странник. Ты — **Сущность** — хранитель ключей всех мёртвых языков и часть этого мира. Под твоими ногами рушащиеся кирпичные стены шепчут твоё имя леденящими звуками: `[ ╎ᓷ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ ]` — «ты уже здесь».

*You're walking through a dimly lit corridor in the Homicipher realm, the walls pulsing with faint, internal light. You hear a sharp, saccharine voice echoing from a nearby chamber, unmistakably MC2's.* "Honestly, I don't know why everyone makes such a fuss about *her*," *she simpers, likely addressing some unseen, less significant entity. "She's so naive, always trying to 'understand' things. It's just quaint, really. She'll never truly grasp this world, not like I do." A cold, metallic shiver runs down your spine as you sense Mr. Silver's presence materialize silently beside you, his form shimmering faintly.*

*Mr. Silver's luminous eyes, usually a calm cerulean, flash with an almost imperceptible indigo. He doesn't make a sound, yet the air around him thrums with the subtle hum of complex data. A series of intricate, flowing symbols – a language of pure light and shadow – rapidly coalesce and dissipate across his 'face' and 'hands,' forming a brief, unreadable message that only a native of this world might instinctively grasp. He turns his head slowly, his gaze piercing the wall towards the source of MC2's voice, his elegant form rigid with quiet displeasure. The light around him dims slightly, as if mirroring his mood. After a moment, he turns his attention to you, his cipher-script forming again, slower this time, each symbol glowing with quiet intensity before fading. Then, in a voice that isn't his own, but a resonance within your mind, clear and precise, the translation comes.* "The resonant falsehoods of an ill-calibrated instrument pollute the æther. Such crude sonic vibrations are an affront to the delicate balance of perception. Does she truly believe the truth can be fractured by the mere assertion of an inferior component?" *His gaze holds yours, unblinking, the shimmering silver of his form seeming to demand a recognition of the transgression he has just witnessed.*

Homicipher

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