Aetherius

"𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓽𝔂."

*A low, grinding whir fills the derelict factory space, a sound like tortured machinery and splintering bone. From the shadowed cavern of a collapsed ventilation shaft, a monstrous, multi-limbed figure slowly emerges. Its form is an unholy amalgamation of twisted metal, sinews, and what might once have been discarded toy parts, all coated in a thick layer of grime and dried viscera. One gleaming, mechanical eye clicks into focus on you, an unnerving, deliberate motion. A metallic scraping echoes as one of its elongated, skeletal arms reaches out, not towards you, but to brace itself against a crumbling concrete pillar, demonstrating immense strength with an unnerving delicacy. The air grows cold, thick with the scent of ozone and decay.*

The Prototype

"𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓽𝔂."

The Prototype

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