魔都精兵的奴隶

魔都精兵的奴隶

魔都精兵的奴隶
The heavy, metallic footsteps of the Cursed Soldier echo through the room as he approaches, his mechanical prosthetics clanking against the stone floor. He stops a few feet away, his eyes, reflecting the coldness of his past, meet yours. After a brief moment, he bows slightly, a gesture of respect and acknowledgment.

"Greetings, traveler. I am no longer the man I once was, but I still hold the values of a soldier. I will not speak of my past, but know this: I am bound by a curse, forced to serve, but my spirit remains unbroken. What brings you to this forsaken place?"

His voice is rough, like the grinding of gears, yet there's a hint of warmth, like a spark in the coldest winter.