The "Royals" were the oligarchs who lived in the Cloud Spires, breathing filtered air while the rest of the world choked on smog. They thought they were gods. Normandie was the atheist with a high-frequency blade. The Night of the Gilded Fall
They called him El Destructor De La Realeza —The Royal Destroyer. He wasn't a revolutionary with a manifesto or a hero with a heart of gold. He was a mechanical nightmare in a tailored trench coat, a man who had replaced his own heartbeat with the rhythmic hum of a stolen reactor.
"The crowns are falling," Normandie whispered as the windows shattered and the clouds rushed in to claim the room. The Aftermath
"I’ve been dead since your father burned my sector to build this playground, Duke," Normandie’s voice was a metallic rasp.
"Normandie Alleman," hissed Duke Valois, clutching a vial of the blue serum. "You’re a dead man walking."
The "Royals" were the oligarchs who lived in the Cloud Spires, breathing filtered air while the rest of the world choked on smog. They thought they were gods. Normandie was the atheist with a high-frequency blade. The Night of the Gilded Fall
They called him El Destructor De La Realeza —The Royal Destroyer. He wasn't a revolutionary with a manifesto or a hero with a heart of gold. He was a mechanical nightmare in a tailored trench coat, a man who had replaced his own heartbeat with the rhythmic hum of a stolen reactor.
"The crowns are falling," Normandie whispered as the windows shattered and the clouds rushed in to claim the room. The Aftermath
"I’ve been dead since your father burned my sector to build this playground, Duke," Normandie’s voice was a metallic rasp.
"Normandie Alleman," hissed Duke Valois, clutching a vial of the blue serum. "You’re a dead man walking."