Goddess of beauty, they call me.
A thing to worship, tied down with a silver chain.
He's a pathetic boy.
As fragile as I may be, I can still see
The desperation in his efforts; it's a losing battle.
He knows. He knows where his actions will pull him,
And he is determined to take them all with him.
Such a cold man.
Can someone like that really be human? They say.
Of course. Lychee is a human!
He won't kill people any more!
This room is a dungeon.
A personal apocalypse, waiting to combust.
Despair, hatred, fear, winding tighter and tighter within these boys.
Golding himself would recoil at this horror.
How long will it be?
Before the Emperor of Ruin sinks his claws in for the final time?
Doomsday draws ever closer,
Between hymns, prayers, and fruitless hopes,
There can't be much time left.
The cost for a twisted dream?
Seven innocent lives
Chained up and locked away with pretty words and grandiose dreams.
Children, whose families will mourn for them
When their lives are cut short.
Black Stars and Child Emperors can only take you so far.
Your final resting place will be here
Consumed by your own darkness, there's no escape left.
You built your fate.
Wire by wire, you pieced together the instrument of your undoing.
And then, you dared to make him human.
Don't think that you will be allowed to live.
With sins like yours, death would be too lenient!
Wait, O Great Emperor.
Command your soldiers while you can.
Have them line up and march to wherever it pleases you.
But don't forget. That which you fight with such desperation,
Is coming for your head.
The truth can only be defied for so long.