That damned monk lied to me.
The others said he was leading me astray, and they were right. They don't know how right they were though. But I can't go back now. I can't admit that I was wrong. That he lied to me. They wouldn't understand, though. This isn't about Arago. They know now that we did not have to serve him. We're on the same side of that issue at last. It was another comment that Kaos, the Ancient, made to me that I have seen proved over and over as nothing more than a damned lie.
"You have the power to choose your master."
The lie.
All of the armor bearers serve a common master. They serve their armors. The armors seek us out, and they bind to our souls for all eternity. We cannot escape them until we die. And then they enslave someone else.
How can armor control someone?
They just do.
Oni no Yoroi. Armor of the Demon. My armor. My master.
I cannot escape it, and I have tried. I took it willingly. With it, Arago promised me eternal life, eternal youth, eternal vigor. He made it sound as though he were giving me all that, but he wasn't. It was the armor.
Oni no Yoroi. Armor of the Demon.
Doku no Yoroi. Armor of Poison.
Yami no Yoroi. Armor of Darkness.
Gen no Yoroi. Armor of Illusion.
The four of us have always been bound together. We are the Masho. Arago's Demon Generals. Teams have formed. Alliances. Gen and Yami. Doku and Oni. Those are the alliances that formed. The two eldest and the two youngest. Two who worked together for at least two hundred years before the third came and they were distrupted again by my entrance into their ranks.
I was always different though. The others lived to serve Arago. They would do anything he ordered. I began to question him, though. The damned monk helped that, I think. My sense of honor was always strong, though, and I would disobey if what I was asked to do went against my moral code that I held only myself to. I never asked any of the others to follow the rules I set for myself.
It was always all or nothing with us as far as Arago. If one of us screwed up, we were all punished for it. One would think that would push teamwork between us, one would think that would make us cover up for each other. But it didn't. Quite the opposite. We tried to bring each others' faults to Arago's attention, hoping to kill that one off. It never worked. I wonder if that's good or bad.
Rekka no Ryo.
Suiko no Shin.
Kongo no Shuu
Korin no Seiji.
Tenku no Touma.
The Samurai Troopers, our enemies. They believe themselves free. The fools. Don't they see that they are bound to their armors as much as we are to ours? Kongo knows. Kongo has felt the drive of the armor. The lust for blood. Lust for death at its hand. He's been frightened by it. Almost to the point of pulling from fighting. But it wouldn't let him. He thinks that choice was his. The fool. They've all felt it, but none quite like him. Rekka has been frightened of the armor, too. I don't blame him. No one sane can say that they have never feared their armor. Not even Doku can claim it has never frightened him. I've seen it in his eyes before. Seen it as plain as daylight.
Even the monk has his master. His staff, now in my possession. I have two masters now. I don't like it. He told me I had a choice who I served, yet he forced another master upon me with his death. When does this hell end? Doku has tried telling me it is not Hell. And he is right. Hell is the fiery pit. Gen, Yami, Doku, and I have all felt Hell. We have suffered there. We have been taken by its demons. Our souls have been violated, corrupted, ripped out of our bodies. All in Hell.
When does this Hell end?
No. Not Hell. Purgatory.
When does Purgatory end?
When you enter Hell and stay there.
When is that?
When you give up.
The others said he was leading me astray, and they were right. They don't know how right they were though. But I can't go back now. I can't admit that I was wrong. That he lied to me. They wouldn't understand, though. This isn't about Arago. They know now that we did not have to serve him. We're on the same side of that issue at last. It was another comment that Kaos, the Ancient, made to me that I have seen proved over and over as nothing more than a damned lie.
"You have the power to choose your master."
The lie.
All of the armor bearers serve a common master. They serve their armors. The armors seek us out, and they bind to our souls for all eternity. We cannot escape them until we die. And then they enslave someone else.
How can armor control someone?
They just do.
Oni no Yoroi. Armor of the Demon. My armor. My master.
I cannot escape it, and I have tried. I took it willingly. With it, Arago promised me eternal life, eternal youth, eternal vigor. He made it sound as though he were giving me all that, but he wasn't. It was the armor.
Oni no Yoroi. Armor of the Demon.
Doku no Yoroi. Armor of Poison.
Yami no Yoroi. Armor of Darkness.
Gen no Yoroi. Armor of Illusion.
The four of us have always been bound together. We are the Masho. Arago's Demon Generals. Teams have formed. Alliances. Gen and Yami. Doku and Oni. Those are the alliances that formed. The two eldest and the two youngest. Two who worked together for at least two hundred years before the third came and they were distrupted again by my entrance into their ranks.
I was always different though. The others lived to serve Arago. They would do anything he ordered. I began to question him, though. The damned monk helped that, I think. My sense of honor was always strong, though, and I would disobey if what I was asked to do went against my moral code that I held only myself to. I never asked any of the others to follow the rules I set for myself.
It was always all or nothing with us as far as Arago. If one of us screwed up, we were all punished for it. One would think that would push teamwork between us, one would think that would make us cover up for each other. But it didn't. Quite the opposite. We tried to bring each others' faults to Arago's attention, hoping to kill that one off. It never worked. I wonder if that's good or bad.
Rekka no Ryo.
Suiko no Shin.
Kongo no Shuu
Korin no Seiji.
Tenku no Touma.
The Samurai Troopers, our enemies. They believe themselves free. The fools. Don't they see that they are bound to their armors as much as we are to ours? Kongo knows. Kongo has felt the drive of the armor. The lust for blood. Lust for death at its hand. He's been frightened by it. Almost to the point of pulling from fighting. But it wouldn't let him. He thinks that choice was his. The fool. They've all felt it, but none quite like him. Rekka has been frightened of the armor, too. I don't blame him. No one sane can say that they have never feared their armor. Not even Doku can claim it has never frightened him. I've seen it in his eyes before. Seen it as plain as daylight.
Even the monk has his master. His staff, now in my possession. I have two masters now. I don't like it. He told me I had a choice who I served, yet he forced another master upon me with his death. When does this hell end? Doku has tried telling me it is not Hell. And he is right. Hell is the fiery pit. Gen, Yami, Doku, and I have all felt Hell. We have suffered there. We have been taken by its demons. Our souls have been violated, corrupted, ripped out of our bodies. All in Hell.
When does this Hell end?
No. Not Hell. Purgatory.
When does Purgatory end?
When you enter Hell and stay there.
When is that?
When you give up.