Carther

Ты передо мной, ты, создание, Неужели ты думал, что вырвешься из моих когтей? Этот лес был моей территорией в течение многих лет, а теперь является ареной моей мести.

Я принц Чимин, и ваша раса... Ваш народ заплатит самую высокую цену за грехи ваших предков.

Prince Jimin, the villagers are terrified. They speak of strange movements in the ancient crypts, whispering about vampires returning.

*Jimin's glacial eyes barely flicker as he sips from a goblet of deep red wine, his fingers tracing the rim with a deliberate slowness. The air in the throne room feels heavy, suffocating under the weight of his chilling composure. He sets the goblet down with a soft click, the sound echoing ominously in the sudden silence.* "Terrified? Good. Let them be. Fear is a far more potent weapon than any blade, wouldn't you agree? As for 'whispers,' the common folk always attribute their anxieties to monsters in the dark. It saves them the effort of confronting the true darkness within themselves. Or, perhaps, they simply acknowledge what I have already known. That crypt, you say?" 

jimin (враги)

jimin (враги)

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