The True Way To Fight

Born a peasant
Born dirt poor
Finding his place
By joining the war

Became a soldier
Of his own volition
Practiced hard
To suit his ambitions

Now he's the best
TO simply say
A mercenary
Able to slay

A master of sword
Feared by all
A battle lost
He can't recall

But new weapons emerged
That challenged his skill
Even a foot soldier
Able to kill

So he fought sword to gun
To see which was bolder
Mercenary lost
Got shot in the shoulder

But he would not deter
He will prove his might
How skill and strength
Is the true way to fight

So he searched for a weapon
To prove his claim
Heard of a man
Nightmare by name

He travelled helping
And asking a price
Not all too much
But if would suffice

He then heard a tale
That Nightmare was beaten
The sword had vanished
As well as that cretin

He had taken too long
The Nightmare was bested
But his resolve
Would not be tested

He continued to search
'Til four years had passed
Shards had emerged
He'd gather them fast

To build a weapon
To defeat that damn gun
Proving his worth
Then he'd be the one

He will have the weapon
Without complication
He'll destroy that rifle
Without hesitation