obsidian_idiom
Greetings, Mortals.
'Tis I-the invincible, the absolute, the architect of your new obsession.
Allow me to remind you of Shakespeare's Sonnet 55:
"Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme..."
The Bard had it right, though his ego was perhaps a bit too modest. Statues crumble, empires decay to dust, and history forgets the names of kings. But my words? My words are etched into eternity. By creating this, I have secured my immortality-and you are simply privileged enough to be alive in the same era to read it.
You came here expecting a neat little summary. A polite little blurb to sell you on the plot.
How pedestrian. I don't write summaries. I write masterpieces.
If you want to know what happens, turn the page. If you don't, live in ignorance. Either way, my legacy is already sealed.