Our will that carries us to the end, of the unheard. Our Red Judge waiting for our hearing. Inside once worlds collide and aeons ripped out of time... TIME, can songs of prophecy foretell. WE'RE. BORN. TO SLAY.

AUDITORIUM, FOR A DYING CLUELESS CROWN, THE CORRODING OF A THOUSAND MINDS.

OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH

ALL OF HELL´S INFERNO SETS THEM FREE, OBLIBERATE, THE BATTLEFIELD THAT AWAIT YOU, AWAITS YOU!!!!!

YEEEAAHHHH-OOAAAHH-HOOO, IT´S ALL BEYOND THE EVENT HORIZON!

YEEEAAHHHH-OOAAAHH-HOOO, JUST RISE. ABOVE, OUR DISSOLUTION!