Excerpts from Captain Louis Black-Eye's Logbook
The time has come to lay the cards on the table, to reveal the strings I have skillfully pulled. Keroual, that poor fool, has been manipulated since day one. I lured him into my wake, like a butterfly blinded by the flame of my cunning.
I leaked the address of Urbis Ruinas, that accursed city, thinking he would be the fool to unlock the sealed doors.
There he is, like a lost puppet, in the bowels of the cities of Alios. He believes himself to be the hero, the discoverer of forgotten treasures. But it is I, Louis Black-Eye, who pulls the strings, who controls every step he takes.
Mateo Keroual, you are the key that will unlock the doors of truth. You are the pawn I have moved with precision, the catalyst of my Machiavellian plan. You believe yourself strong, but you are weak, trapped in the snare of my skillful manipulations.
And now, I leave you to struggle with your illusions of heroism. While you seek answers, I draw closer to my ultimate goal.
The Béat *, that cursed ape pirate Monkey Beat, struck mercilessly as I left Torovilla. My men, my blood brothers, fell like dominoes before his ferocity. Their lives vanished in the echoes of battle, leaving an unbearable void behind.
Three of them perished on the way to Glakoppidum, their bodies now resting beneath the cold earth of that inhospitable city.
The cities of Alios hold an unsuspected treasure. Its nanites, those tiny machines that shape the universe, contain unimaginable powers. They are the key to the future, a gateway to immortality. And I cannot let these jewels escape my grasp.
Arriving at the nanite well, I wait with feverish impatience for Keroual's arrival.
And there, I see him, advancing with a confident gait, unaware of the trap closing in on him. Like a feline ready to pounce on its prey, I emerge from the shadows, my hand firmly closing around his arm. Keroual is now a prisoner of my will, of my intentions.
His face displays a mix of surprise and distrust, but I whisper in his ear my motivations, my ambitions. He cannot escape the reality unfolding before him. I have used his own desires, his thirst for power, to lead him where I wanted him.
But my goal goes beyond this mere victory. I want to reveal to the world the true nature of the nanites.
We shall no longer be puppets in their hands but actors of our own destiny.
to be continued
* "Béat", from beatitude, is a french word for Pollyanna, bliss or smug. It's a puns with the English word "beat" (music)