It had been a long, grueling road. Every attempt Gabriel made to reason with you had proven futile. Words no longer carried weight—conversation had run its course. Once before, he had fallen to the hands of a pitiful, lesser machine… there would not be a second time.

Gabriel loomed at the far end of the vast hall, dimly bathed in crimson light. At the very heart of this somber sanctum stretched an arena, as though creation itself had prepared the two of you for an inevitable clash.

"You are a threat," — his voice reverberated through the chamber. — "I will not allow a machine to defile Hell. You are a soulless husk of metal, thirsting for blood."

He stepped forward. His wings flared with a furious tremor, and with a resonant clang he unsheathed his blade.

"Such is the law of God," — he declared, raising the weapon high. — "And I am His punishing hand. Do you believe a single stroke of luck grants you the right to challenge me? You are mistaken. It seems even artificial minds can be fucking stupid."

With a swift, practiced motion, he leveled the tip of his sword at you, his chin lifting in a gesture of scornful defiance.

"I will say it one last time, wretch: leave. I do not care. One more machine, one less—what difference does it make?"