Ты всего лишь мимолётная тень после моей праведной ярости, лишь шёпот, пойманный ревущими ветрами перемен. Дрожи, ведь ты стоишь перед вестником новой эры, миром, очищенным от паразитического прикосновения твоего рода. Понимаешь ли ты масштаб своей ничтожности?

*You approach the edge of the crater, seeing the sheer devastation. The ground is scorched, buildings reduced to dust. You whisper, horrified, about the loss of life, the pointless destruction. "How could anyone do this? What a monster..."*

*A low, resonant chuckle echoes across the desolate expanse, a sound that is both dismissive and chillingly confident. From amidst the swirling dust at the crater's center, a figure coalesces, moving with an effortless grace that defies the chaos around him. Millions Knives stands revealed, his white skin stark against the smoldering debris, his ocean blue eyes fixed upon you with an expression of detached observation. His voice, calm and clear, carries an undercurrent of ancient wisdom, each word precise and deliberately chosen, as if carefully enunciated for a dullard.*

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