"You astound me. You have but a human body, and yet you carry such a power within you."
"You claim that you have no tears left to cry, no blood left to shed, but surely this is because you have filled yourself with fire..."
"Though your body has long been covered in scars, fierce flames are all that now may flow, like molten iron, from your eyes and your wounds."
"But we appear to have gotten off-topic. I followed the trail of smoke and tracked you down because I wish to strike a deal with you..."
"Let the flames that now devour you be extinguished by the grace of Her Majesty. What say you?"
The first Fatuus gave power to a young woman in whom the flame of life had all but died,
And in her wild imagination, she saw the line that lay between the corrupt past and a stainless future...
"I understand. Then, let glacial ice take the place of my erased past and extinguish these undying flames."
"Let the darkness of corruption, the pain of the world, and the humans, beasts, and the sin they carry all be purified by silent ice."
But despite this, a pure white flame continued to burn within her heart...
"We share the same goal, you, your Tsaritsa, and I."
"Cleanse the sources of distortion in this world: short-sighted, ignorant gods and the darkness and corruption of the Abyss."
"Good. I will do whatever it takes to become an effective instrument in the advancement of our common cause."
"For even if I dress in pure white from head to toe, the ashes of the dead that have long left their stain on every inch of my being can never be cleansed."

Since the stain of my compatriots' blood cannot be cleansed, I shall become The Jester, who laughs in the face of fate.
Since my level of learning could not compare with the sages, I failed to earn the favor of the previous ruler.
So too did I fail to stop them from tearing away the veil of sin, ushering in a tide of divine wrath, destruction, and foolishness...
Then I shall become instead a fool, a Fatuus, and devote myself to Her Majesty, who understands my pain...
My name is Pierro, The Jester. Please listen to the words I have to say:
Proud Fatui comrades, I know your hearts harbor both the fires of rage and the cold of eternal winter.
Each one of us has borne witness to the absurd callousness of the foundational principles of this world.
So, let us don our masks in mockery of the world as we go forth and rewrite the rules of destiny.

He was born with a face fairer than any other,
Destined to a long life and a hollow will.
He was a transcendent being, divinely created, but he was cast aside like worthless dross.
Yet, due to an error that cannot be known, he roused himself from slumber,
And began to wander the mortal realm.
Before the Fatui found him, he had drifted for countless years
And in that time, this is what his experience had taught him:
"I am a 'human' who surpasses all others."
"Even the gods daren't meddle in my fate."
"Neither mortal nor god, nor fate itself, is qualified to be my judge."
"I am free to choose how I wish to spend the remainder of my days."
"Since these mask-wearing people are so fun to be around..."
"I think I'll become one of them."

"A human is nothing more than a machine of a certain level of complexity."
Thus declared the youth from his lectern in the seedbed of wisdom.
If one were to disassemble a part of this machine and make enhancements to it,
Its performance could be greatly amplified.
With or without a Vision, and irrespective of their physique or combat skills,
"Enhanced humans" would surely display strength far beyond the average.
Despite the risk of being denounced as a heretic and permanently cast from the circle of the wise,
The youth candidly jotted down these thoughts in the margins of his research notes:
I. As anticipated, no research breakthroughs are possible, given the working style of the Academia.
II. Nevertheless, being expelled would be a loss. One needs an environment conducive to research.
Following a trail of rumors of heresy, the first of the Fatui tracked him down...
"Merely an enhanced human? If your great nation can furnish me with sufficient resources and ample time, I could even manufacture that which you would call a god. What say you?"
In the desert that shone bright like liquid gold, he inquired of the Snezhnayan diplomat:
"Will you treat me like the Academia did? Will you call me a monster, a madman?"
"Or will you treat me as my hometown did, and chase me away with pitchforks and clubs...?"
However...
"Good. Then, we are now in partnership."
"As for the matter of your title — what do you say to this..."
Taken completely by surprise by the sheer irony of the title he was given, the young man burst into hysterical laughter.

Money is the lifeblood of the world, and the pathways along which it flows are the world's arteries.
Then, the center of the world is a heart made of gold.
He was not one of the favored, and could only pursue worldly power.
But though money ought to mean nothing to the gods,
They held it firmly within their grasp nonetheless, along with the countless other forms of power that they wielded.
Perhaps he lusted for money because he had once been destitute,
Or perhaps the fact that the gods had never looked upon him with favor ignited a burning desire for resistance inside him...
"The people of the land from which these coins hail revere contracts above all else."
"In the name of money, I shall respect the contract between us..."
"We shall, by whatever means necessary, become the heart that pumps money around the world."
"And, when the moment comes, that heart shall cease beating by our will alone."