Конец эры

There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own, you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I, am Sovereign.

Rudimentary cteatures of blood and flesh, you toch my mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding.

Reaper? A label creatured by the protheans to give voice to their destruction. In the end what they choose to call us is irrelevant. We simply are.

Organic life is nothing but a genetic mutation, an accident. Youre lives are measured in years and decades, you wither and die.

We are eternal, the pinnacle of evolution and existence. Before us you are nothing, your extinction is inevitable. We are the end of everything.

Confidence born of ignorence, the cycle cannot be broken.

The pattern has repeated itself more time than you can fathom. Organic civilizations rise, evolve, advance and the apex of their glory their are extinguished.

The protheans were not the first. They did not create the Citadel. They the did not forge the mass relays. Theu merely found them, the legacy of my kind.

Your civilization is based on the technology of the mass relays, our technology. By using it your society develops along the paths we desire.

We impose order on the chaos of organic evolution. You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it.

We have no begining, we have no end. We are infinite. Millions years after your civilization has been eradicated and forgotten. We will endure.

My kind transcends your very understanding. We are each a nation, idipendent, free of all weakness. You cannot even grasp the nature of our existence.

We are legion. The time of our return is coming. Our nombers will darken the sky of every world. You cannot ascape your doom.

Your words are as empty as your future. I am vanguard of your destruction. This exchange is over.