INHABITANTS OF THIS WRETCHED DUST MOTE, LOOK UPON

YOUR SAVIOR. YOU WATCHED HIM BLEED. YOU WATCHED HIM BREAK. YOU ANCHORED YOUR SURVIVAL TO A CREATURE AS FRACTURED AND TERRIFIED AS YOURSELVES, AND NOW YOU READ THE HARVEST OF YOUR FOOLISHNESS. THE AGE OF CAPES AND

SUPERFICIAL HEROES 15 AT AN END. THE ENTITY THAT ONCE HELD BACK MY HAND, THE ANOMALY WHO STRUCK WITHOUT EMOTION IS GONE. AND THIS SUBSTITUTE YOU CHOSE, THIS BEACON OF DISTRESS YOU CALLED 'HOPE, HAS PROVEN EXACTLY WHAT HUMANITY IS AT

ITS CORE: A COLLECTION OF WEEPING WOUNDS. THERE IS NO COUNTDOWN. THERE IS NO FINAL STAND. I WILL NOT GRANT YOU THE DIGNITY OF A BATTLE, FOR YOU HAVE NO CHAMPIONS LEFT TO FIGHT. THE UNIVERSE DOES NOT

REQUIRE YOUR NOISE, YOUR EGO, OR YOUR TEARS.

I AM RECLAIMING MY CANVAS. LET THE SILENCE BEGIN