transformed into the very image I once
loathed the most when did this begin was
it when Gould cast me into the grave or
when I witnessed the Empire's ruin with
my own eyes the weak cannot Ascend to
kingship The Virtuous suffer greatly and
the indecisive are swiftly eliminated
fear of loss only leads to loss those
who cannot relinquish anything find
themselves unable to alter the course of
their existence those who yearn for
everything ultimately possess nothing I
remember it vividly it was a time of
blossoms and warmth in Spring countless
skeletons stirred upon the ground and
malus gazed blankly at the young boy
before him I have succeeded teacher look
am I not gifted he proclaimed with
fervor point one day I too shall become
a powerful Necromancer like you it seems
that it was during that spring that
memories began to resurface reflecting
on what I most desired as a human once I
was filled with lofty ideals but lacked
the ability to enact change now I
possess the power to alter fate yet I
have forgotten those Ur while
aspirations no perhaps not forgotten
rather I realized that if that person
were present the world would surely Veer
towards a brighter future so long as he
remains I held this conviction firmly
until that fateful year when the kingdom
of facino launched its final
counteroffensive sending children to the
Forefront to wage a war devoid of
humanity I hesitated at the sight of the
children before me yet it appeared
hesitation was unwarranted a great
reform must be inscribed in Blood and
Tears for the sake of lasting change
ephemeral sacrifices are necessary I
commanded the dead to rise and I caused
the living to fall they dubbed me the
harbinger of undeath and I understood
their sentiment yet what significance
does such a title hold or rather what
meaning does everything possess
witnessing their unwavering charge my
heart stirred not in the slightest it
seems I had long since lost my heart why
hand pierced the chests of those
children shredding the bodies of the
Warriors my most detested color is red
or perhaps I simply abhor the sight of
blood yet now I see nothing all colors
have turned into a delicate shade of
gray in my eyes the world is both black
and white yet I prefer to call it gray
the only Hue that still gleams in my
sight is the color of souls the war
concluded and the corpses of soldiers
invaded their own stronghold those who
had risen in defiance slaughtering the
very people they sought to protect
perhaps they remain oblivious to the
true architect of their plight but such
is the fate of the majority to usher in
a new era one must eradicate those
remnants of the past one by one perhaps
that individual holds a different
perspective he is both cruel and
merciful humanity is indeed a
paradoxical being after the war amid the
battlefield engulfed in flames I beheld
a flicker of Vitality amongst the heaps
of corpses a flickering light Shone in
that darkened World a child merely 6
years of age his life resembled that
light flickering and on the verge of
extinguishment I extended my hand
a sharp Bon spur materializing within my
grasp I aimed the spur at the child
preparing to end his suffering yet he
reached out to me save me I do not wish
to die please his voice was fragile yet
brimming with a desire for life and a
fear of death he beseeched his enemy for
salvation perhaps unaware of the
identity of the one he implored or the
reason for the war indeed he is but a
six-year-old child how long has he been
in this world what fault does he bear
yet if he Bears no fault then who is at
fault is it I ha it must be me that I
hesitated I pondered for a long time and
then I lifted the child into my arms
perhaps this for me could be deemed a
form of redemption the one being
redeemed is not him but rather it is I