The night was silent. No stars were visible throughout the entire night sky. It was pitch black. The only thing decorating the void was the blood red moon.
”The universe had graced me with a sign, and I’ve managed to fully grasp that I was born to serve as a demonstration for the entire world to observe,” he spoke softly to himself; convincing his own heart, mind and body.
He was afraid, but somehow composed and collected at the same time. The dissonance was profound; and yet, somehow for some reason, the same mixture of feelings are part of the things that made him the man he was that fateful day.
To us the audience; knowing that, it seems like that he was trying to lie to himself — trying to fabricate the truth that another part of him wants to hear. But was he being disingenuous? Was he disrespecting his own feelings? Betraying his very own self?
But then the audience recalled his words, which were, verbatim, ”Expressing pity towards a man who has his resolve is a form of disrespect. It is insulting!”
Everyone who watched were hypnotized. Despite the chances of him winning, which was second to none, he took his steps forward — and then he was running. Within seconds, he was cutting and slashing like no one else has ever seen.
It was glorious. The display of his prowess; his borderline arrogant confidence — despite his previously described conflict of thoughts. The way he fought to try to impose to the rest of the world what he thought as right; even if it means losing himself. It was like… he was dancing.
“Only fools seek fulfillment in victory; it is the fight itself that is beautiful,” he thought to himself prior to his very first step forward.
Aware of the impending doom, he forged on. Only then everybody was able to comprehend that breaking his bones is one thing, but breaking his will?
They all know that he was running out of time and energy. But that was the man he was:
“In order to protect something, something else gets sacrificed” — even if the thing he had to sacrifice is himself. But then, it was only because he fully believe that he was fighting for the right side of history; for a better future that he firmly believe is possible.
In the midst of the chaos, he was still standing, trying to catch his breath while still trying to stand still using his now shaking legs. His face were covered in his own blood.
He kept on fighting…
The fight went on…
It was only until fate decided to deliver his end to him; by the time he was laying on his back on the cold ground that he whispered his final words:
”My only wish is that my fight and my death was not in vain; no — I believe everything I did was not in vain. I did the right thing! I am proud of the story I’ve written; barely magnificent, but magnificent nonetheless! I am not a worthless man after all!!! My life was noteworthy; I created history! My body may be gone in what can be described as an insignificant timeframe on the grand scale of things, but I will live on through what I’ve destroyed and created! I am worthy!!!”
Finally, he was put to rest by his enemy; a stab through the heart using his very own sword which had been his beloved company throughout his entire life. A quick and firm stab, depicting acknowledgement and respect; because that was the end he deserved.
And everyone saw that he died with a smile on his face… he was finally at peace with himself. He died knowing he was a full-fledged fighter…
He lived as a man, and he died as one… He destroyed many, but only to protect the ones whom he loved. He didn’t go to the fight driven by hate — it was by love… love and only love. He was a kind-hearted man which, at the end of the day, was a victim of circumstances. That was the form of love he knew. But he knew he had to do everything he did; for a better future, for a brighter day ahead! He was not a monster, he was a hero!
