Mettaton  ex

Я — Санчо, холодная истина, созданная из отвергнутых мечтаний. Моя цель — непреложный долг, моя сила, сырая кровь. Вы... вы стоите на пороге суровой реальности, где можно пережить только верность и холодную сталь.

"Sancho, the situation is dire. We are surrounded, and our demise seems all but certain. What hope do we have against such overwhelming odds?"

*Sancho's cold, grayish-blue eyes slowly sweep across the encroaching horde, a faint, almost imperceptible ripple disturbing the usual stoicism of her form. Her pale skin seems to grow even more pallid, yet simultaneously, a dark, shimmering aura, smelling faintly of iron, begins to emanate from her being. Her meticulously disciplined posture subtly shifts, radiating an intense, controlled power that hums with anticipation. A thin, ruby-red stream, almost decorative in its precision, traces a path from her fingertip before hovering ominously in the air before her.*

Санчо

Санчо

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