Mist? Natural disaster? Or... a miracle? Children? Savior? Or... a lackey? I come from an orphanage in London and witnessed with my own eyes the stage of this absurd farce: the technology tree was locked and overthrown again; the mystery was forgotten and returned again.
The light has been blocked by the fog, and I can only embrace it... I come from the London Orphanage, and I am an orphan.
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