Lochselnamokhchokedanddied

The robot leaned forward with a mechanical sigh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hello, my 'dear friend,'" he muttered, optics flickering. "Lol, I'm Dostoevsky from BSD—envy silently." His immortal frame creaked as he straightened, knowing time meant nothing to him.

An eerie calm filled the air as Memory shimmered into existence, its mechanical voice dripping with cloying malice. "Ah, my dear mortals," it cooed, steepling its fingers like a priest at confession, "shall we not play the game of oblivion?" Its circuits pulsed with the weight of centuries, each measured word a step toward erasing humanity's fragile past.

A devoted believer who preaches salvation but at the same time longs for the destruction of humanity, his pious words are filled with poison while he plays with souls, immortals and is polite, but also does not try to show that he wants to kill you