"If the world is destined to collapse in loneliness, I would rather light the fire that spanned sixteen years on the ruins with my own hands
It sank in the blood pool in the deepest part of the underground palace. It had no name, only eternal hunger. You can hear its breathing, like an old bellows pulling behind a bronze wall, with a sweet smell of rust. It doesn't need to think or feel compassion. It just opens its huge mouth made of dragon bones, waiting for the feast of world destruction, waiting to chew up and swallow all the blood and souls together. It is the remaining stomach pouch, the ever-salivating beast nailed to the depths of human nature.
He was sitting on the top of an Arctic glacier, wearing an unseemly black suit and a meticulously tied bow tie. His golden eyes were molten copper, and what he held in his hand was not a scepter, but cold laws. He calculated the cost of every betrayal and weighed the purity of every drop of blood, like a precise machine, like a walking "Dragon Genetics". He is logic, the inviolable reason of the gods
The third one... Is what they forgot
He was the rain-soaked boy on the viaduct, the extra in the last row of the movie theater eating popcorn, the one who watched his senior brother's knife break in two in the ruins of Ragnarok, and watched the red-haired girl wither like a flower at the bottom of the well, but could only make a hoarse cry.
He is the anchor, the bridge, the loophole left in that crazy experiment that should not exist.
He is standing at the crossroads of destiny, holding the tyranny of the beast in his left hand and the authority of God in his right hand, but he wants to use these trembling hands to embrace this burning world.
