A set of stolen W Corp. gear, corrupted and volatilely modified to rip through worlds.
A collection of tattoos; a set from the father to soothe and embrace the body. Sets from dead sisters, to seal and brace the weapon.
A sword of legends, humming with spirits.
“Every Tung Must Die…”
“I have not prompted your “art” - YOU have; and in prompting it, you have generated mine.”
“Please, 0000000. Appear before me and tear me asunder. Let me see your eyes as I become brainrot.