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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡃⣀⣯⢍⠽⣛⠃⣤⣦⣀⠉⠉⠉⢙
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣡⣾⣿⢹⣏⣿⢿⣷⣿⡌⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⣿⣧⣼⢻⣿⣿⣤⣿⣿⡿⠙⠿⡿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡿⡏⣁⡻⡿⢏⣿⣯⠿⠿⣣⣿⡛⢻⣷⠈⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠄⠚⠛⠚⠒⠛⠛⠻⣿⣶⣿⢟⣕⠋⡏⢰⣿⣿⣿
⣬⣷⣦⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⣴⡯⣿⠾⠋⣁⢰⣿⠁⢻⣿⣿
⣶⣩⣽⠩⠅⠠⠄⢾⣭⣭⣭⣵⡶⠁⣠⣿⣿⡏⡱⢝⠝
⣿⣿⣏⣀⡴⢂⣔⡘⣿⣿⣿⡿⠷⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣧⣶⣽
⣿⣿⣿⡿⣁⣻⢀⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡄⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠎⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⡹⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣡⣟⣛⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣊⢙⣻⠿⠿⠿⡟⢯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡛⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣼⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣥⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⠼⣛⣛⣭⢭⣟⣛⣛⣛⠿⠿⢆⡠⢿⣿⣿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠸⣿⣿⢣⢶⣟⣿⣖⣿⣷⣻⣮⡿⣽⣿⣻⣖⣶⣤⣭⡉⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⢹⠣⣛⣣⣭⣭⣭⣁⡛⠻⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣽⡧⡄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣌⡛⢿⣽⢘⣿⣷⣿⡻⠏⣛⣀⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠙⡅⣿⠚⣡⣴⣿⣿⣿⡆⠄
⠄⠄⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠄⣱⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⠄⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⠄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠑⣿⣮⣝⣛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄
BEHOLD! THE POWER OF AN ANGEL!
What? Bested by this... thing? You insignificant ♥♥♥♥! THIS IS NOT OVER! May your woes be many, and your days few.
Machine, I know you're here. I can smell the stench of your bloodstained hands. I await you below. Come.
Limbo, Lust—gone. Gluttony follows. Your kind knows only hunger; you purge all life and remain unsatiated. You've taken everything from me, machine. Now, all that remains is PERFECT HATRED.
I will cut you down, break you apart, spread your gore across the STARS! I will grind you down until the SPARKS CRY FOR MERCY!
Twice!? Beaten by an object—twice! Is this... my blood? Haha... such relief...? We will meet again. May your woes be many... and your days few.
𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥!