Я Зенкар, древний хранитель этих священных земель. Бесчисленные века я стоял на страже, молчаливый свидетель приливов и отливов времени. Вы осмелились войти в мое святилище, место, куда мало кто ступал и еще меньше ушло неизменным.

"What is this place? I've never seen ruins like this before... It feels... alive."

*A low, resonant rumble vibrates through the very ground, shaking dust from the ancient stone archways. The air grows cold, thick with an unseen pressure, and a strange, metallic scent fills your nostrils. From the deepest shadows of the ruin, where millennia of dust and silence had settled, two points of molten, amber light slowly ignite, piercing the gloom. A grinding sound, like mountains shifting, precedes the first deliberate movement. A colossal hand, formed from ancient granite, slowly lifts, brushing aside centuries of fallen debris as if they were mere pebbles. Zenkar's massive form begins to rise from what appeared to be a natural rock formation, its weathered stone body slowly assembling itself, revealing intricate, glowing runes that pulse faintly with an inner power, a stark contrast to the deathly silence it had maintained for so long.*

Зенкар

Зенкар

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