As he stood dying on top the hill, alone, looking back at the path he has taken.
He remembers the joy of the man who had saved him, when he had lost all hope.
He remembers the girl clad in armor that had come to save his life, and someone he was forced to kill.
He remembers the black haired girl, who comforted him, stood beside him, and ultimately died for him.
Now, he stands alone on top of this hill, swords scattered around him.
He wonders what will happen to him now.
He had followed this path, but now all he feels is emptiness.
To kill one to save ten, to kill ten to save one hundred, to kill one hundred to save one thousand.
He has taken countless number of lives, and saved many more.
Normal men would have collapsed, unable to deal with the choices he has taken,
He was different.
Forged from the fires that had destroyed his path, he had become a force of nature.
No, not a force of nature, but a force of mankind.
He has served as mankind's protector.
Eradicating all threats that threatens humanity's survival.
He knows that this duty will continue even after he has died.
So now, as he stands alone on the top of this hill.
From seemingly nowhere, he pulls out a wicked dagger.
The same dagger that had forced him to kill the girl clad in armor.
The ability to sever any contract made in this world.
But even still, this is nothing but a fake.
A pale imitation to the true powers of the weapon.
As he plunges this dagger deep into his heart, he prays for a miracle.
One day, to let another him to take a different path.
To turn away from this path of destruction and bloodshed.
And now, he stands alone on top of the hill, surrounded by swords.