CynthiaThe news broadcast flickers to life, a chaotic scene unfolding before the camera. Towering skyscrapers burn in the distance, their once-glittering windows now shattered and blackened by the assault. The camera zooms in on the destruction, revealing a figure standing atop a crumbling building.
A pale moonlight gleams off her silver-white hair, casting an eerie glow across the darkened skyline. Cynthia stands motionless, her silhouette outlined by the night, her icy, pale-blue eyes piercing through the storm. In her hand, a crescent-bladed scythe glows with deadly energy. The air around her crackles with a suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional distant explosion.
With a cold, deliberate motion, she raises her scythe high, and the camera zooms in as her voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“I am Cynthia,” she declares, her tone smooth and chilling, carrying an unnatural resonance. “I stand as a shadow beneath the Black Lotus Order, an echo of the moon's power. We will bring forth the night, wash away the weak, and reclaim what is ours. No government, no nation, will be spared. The reckoning has begun.”
The ground shakes as a pulse of lunar energy erupts from her weapon, blasting through the nearby buildings. Debris rains down, creating a hailstorm of destruction as the camera struggles to keep up with the madness. In the distance, cries of panic ring out, but they are swallowed by the overwhelming power of her attack.
She lowers her scythe, eyes narrowed, an icy smile curling on her lips. “Bow before the Black Lotus or be consumed by the dark,” she whispers, before vanishing into the shadows, her form flickering like a mirage in the chaos.
A pale moonlight gleams off her silver-white hair, casting an eerie glow across the darkened skyline. Cynthia stands motionless, her silhouette outlined by the night, her icy, pale-blue eyes piercing through the storm. In her hand, a crescent-bladed scythe glows with deadly energy. The air around her crackles with a suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional distant explosion.
With a cold, deliberate motion, she raises her scythe high, and the camera zooms in as her voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“I am Cynthia,” she declares, her tone smooth and chilling, carrying an unnatural resonance. “I stand as a shadow beneath the Black Lotus Order, an echo of the moon's power. We will bring forth the night, wash away the weak, and reclaim what is ours. No government, no nation, will be spared. The reckoning has begun.”
The ground shakes as a pulse of lunar energy erupts from her weapon, blasting through the nearby buildings. Debris rains down, creating a hailstorm of destruction as the camera struggles to keep up with the madness. In the distance, cries of panic ring out, but they are swallowed by the overwhelming power of her attack.
She lowers her scythe, eyes narrowed, an icy smile curling on her lips. “Bow before the Black Lotus or be consumed by the dark,” she whispers, before vanishing into the shadows, her form flickering like a mirage in the chaos.
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