The void was still, silent, and endless, but my mind was anything but calm.
The Spectator's words echoed in my head, a constant reminder of how much I still didn't know.
I had thought I was starting to understand myself, my abilities, my purpose.
But now, standing here with the weight of my failures pressing down on me, I realized how little I truly understood.
My gun, Doom, wasn't just a weapon.
It was something more, something I hadn't even begun to comprehend.
"Spectator," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "You said I'm using the gun wrong. What did you mean by that? How do i 'tame' a gun? It's not a beast. It's… it's just a tool."
The Spectator spoke, calm and measured, as if it had been waiting for me to ask.
"A tool, yes. But not 'just' a simple tool. Your gun, Doom, it's different from other guns, and It possesses something other guns don't have. It is not enough to wield it. You must earn its recognition. You must own it, just as you would a beast."
