[You've possessed the shell of the 'Son of the Initial Fire of Desire'!]
[You twist your waist and swing your arms, brandishing the 'Sword of the Bloody King'. The thick, solid walls crumble before you like tofu, instantly shattering into pieces!]
[The thunderous collapse of the wall fails to drown out the voices of terror that follow the settling dust...]
[Who are you, who exactly are you? You're not a transplant surgeon, nor a scholar. How could such crude and feeble martial skills possibly possess such overwhelming destructive power?]
[You step forward, the silhouette with the greatsword emerging through the hazy dust, becoming clearer...]
[The prisoner backs away in fright, retreating until there's no more wall to back into; it cries out in panic, what are you doing? You can't kill me! I can introduce you to an organization, it's your only chance to survive...]
[Its sentence is cut short as a crimson slash of the greatsword carves a bloody curtain of light!]
