Steamをインストール
ログイン
|
言語
简体中文(簡体字中国語)
繁體中文(繁体字中国語)
한국어 (韓国語)
ไทย (タイ語)
български (ブルガリア語)
Čeština(チェコ語)
Dansk (デンマーク語)
Deutsch (ドイツ語)
English (英語)
Español - España (スペイン語 - スペイン)
Español - Latinoamérica (スペイン語 - ラテンアメリカ)
Ελληνικά (ギリシャ語)
Français (フランス語)
Italiano (イタリア語)
Bahasa Indonesia(インドネシア語)
Magyar(ハンガリー語)
Nederlands (オランダ語)
Norsk (ノルウェー語)
Polski (ポーランド語)
Português(ポルトガル語-ポルトガル)
Português - Brasil (ポルトガル語 - ブラジル)
Română(ルーマニア語)
Русский (ロシア語)
Suomi (フィンランド語)
Svenska (スウェーデン語)
Türkçe (トルコ語)
Tiếng Việt (ベトナム語)
Українська (ウクライナ語)
翻訳の問題を報告
But here’s the truth, champ: Butcher dies choking on his own blood, still thinking he had a chance. And you? You die believing in losers. That’s the punchline. That’s the joke. You’re not laughing with power, you’re laughing from under its boot.
Good riddance? No. When I’m done, they won’t remember Butcher… and they sure as hell won’t remember you. You’ll vanish like the rest. And the only name the world whispers in fear, in awe, in prayer... is mine.
"AHAHAHA? No, no... that's my line."
AHAHAHAHAHA.
A few insults. A little posturing.
You standing there behind Butcher, thinking you’ve got plot armor or something.
It’s... cute.
Like watching a mouse bark at a lion.
But then you had to run your mouth.
‘F U Homelander’...
Like you’ve earned the right to even say my name without choking on it.
Like you understand anything about power.
You. Are. Nothing.
You hide behind that broken thug like it gives you meaning.
Butcher’s not your shield. He’s just a slower corpse.
And now?
Now I don’t just kill you.
I erase you.
I melt your face off the Earth and wipe your name from every memory.
You think I’m the villain?
No... I’m the end.