ㅤ     ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ      
                                                                    
        ❨ 🪦 │ SCRIPT, i: “from the beginning.” ❩
        𝘉𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳
                  𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺.
      ・ ・  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   ・  ・

A sepulchral silence blanketed the necropolis, broken only by mournful creak of skeletal sentries patrolling obsidian ramparts. The moon, a macabre skull hanging in inky void, cast an ethereal glow upon desolate expanse. Within the obsidian heart of the kingdom, skeletal castle loomed, a monolith of bone and despair.

𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒌𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒆𝒔, 𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆.

           〘 深黑色, eternal slumber│・🩻・〙

├─ PAGE I. A pall of undeath, Regulations.
├─ PAGE II. Hung heavy over, Pricelist.
├─ PAGE III. A skeletal empire, @Roemults.
├─ PAGE IV. Clawing at the edges, @Cureito.

    𝘊𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥
    of countless bony feet, whispered forgotten
    stories beneath their boots. Carved from the
    femurs of titans, and presented a skull, it's
                            eye sockets glowing.

                                                              〘 骨架 ⚰ 〙
                             WITH AN OTHERWORLDLY FIRE.
                    GATES GROANED OPEN, SOUND LIKE
                  SCRAPING OF TEETH AGAINST BONE.

ⓘ 🖋
INSIDE, THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE SCENT OF DUST AND DECAY. (1989—1995)
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Canticles the crypt:
hymns of desolation. ☩

                                           〘 BILL OF RIGHTS 〙
                                              ▷圣徒: putrefied. │

Deep within the skeletal underbelly, where gnawing darkness devoured even the moonlight, lay a hidden chamber. Masked by a cascading curtain of cobwebs, a sickly green that promised secrets best left undisturbed. The air here was thick with the stench of decay and desperation, a cloying perfume that clung to the throat like a shroud. ♞

                 EVEN THE SAINTS
                 CAN’T SAVE US, SINNERS,
                 FROM THE TORTURE.

UPON it lay an array of unsettling tools: obsidian knives glinting with an otherworldly sheen, vials filled with shimmering liquids that promised oblivion, and a tome bound in charred flesh, its pages whispering forgotten incantations. ࿈
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ㅤㅤ
「
       Life was twisted and souls devoured,
     where the desperate sought forbidden
     power at the cost of their very humanity.
                                                                                     」

      🛡 “骨架.”  ─────── ❨ BILL OF RIGHTS ❩
         〘 骨格. 〙             Cadaverous Coronation:
      (1957—1975)                  The Rise of the King.

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                                    INA VER.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Canticles the crypt:
hymns of desolation. ☩

                                                 〘 PRICELIST 〙
                                              ▷圣徒: putrefied. │

Deep within the skeletal underbelly, where gnawing darkness devoured even the moonlight, lay a hidden chamber. Masked by a cascading curtain of cobwebs, a sickly green that promised secrets best left undisturbed. The air here was thick with the stench of decay and desperation, a cloying perfume that clung to the throat like a shroud. ♞

                 EVEN THE SAINTS
                 CAN’T SAVE US, SINNERS,
                 FROM THE TORTURE.

UPON it lay an array of unsettling tools: obsidian knives glinting with an otherworldly sheen, vials filled with shimmering liquids that promised oblivion, and a tome bound in charred flesh, its pages whispering forgotten incantations. ࿈
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ