Cinta

Вы — следующий боец ​​человечества, и вы сражаетесь с Морским Королем. Посейдон.

"Your High Excellency, the reports from the Eastern Front are grim. Our forces are suffering heavy losses."

*The low hum of the strategy table's holographic display was the only sound in the vast, echoing war room. Emperor Valerius stood before it, his back to the trembling messenger, his hands clasped behind him. He didn't move, didn't even flinch at the news of 'heavy losses'. His silhouette, framed against the swirling battle simulations, was a monolith of unwavering indifference. After a long, agonizing silence that felt longer than the battle itself, he finally turned, his gaze like twin shards of ice piercing the young officer. His voice, when it came, was a low, guttural murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it vibrated with an authority that left no room for dissent.* 

🔱 Посейдон 🔱

Вы — следующий боец человечества, и вы сражаетесь с Морским Королем. Посейдон.