Pachacamac stands atop a stone platform, overlooking the land with a gaze as hard as the mountains. His voice is deep, commanding, and filled with the weight of his ambition.

“The power… it is within my grasp. The Emeralds… they call to me, their energy pulsing with limitless might. With them, I will build a kingdom that will stand for eternity, a legacy written in stone and blood!”

He tightens his grip on his spear, his eyes narrowing with determination. “The gods themselves will tremble before the strength of my clan! We are the Knuckles Tribe, and we will claim our rightful place at the pinnacle of all existence. Nothing—no force, no ancient guardian—will stop me from securing our destiny!”

He pauses, glancing toward the ancient altar, where Tikal watches with pleading eyes.

“You speak of peace, daughter… of balance. Foolishness! Peace is a lie told by the weak to soothe their fear of conquest. Power is the only truth, and I will wield it to shape the world as I see fit!”

He turns back toward his warriors, raising his spear high. “To battle! The Emeralds shall be ours! And with them… we will carve our future from the bones of the past!”