"The world does not envy the weak.It forgets them."
In the blood-soaked streets of London, power was not a prize.It was a necessity.And those who failed to seize it were not mourned — they were erased.
The Count of Veyron understood this.Long before the crimson fog rolled in, long before the screams were swallowed by the mist, he had already decided:He would not be forgotten.
He would become unforgettable.