For Chaos, Not War
With each strike I take, with every heart I tear, I do so not for justice – nor love, or honour. With every slash I make, and every bone I break, I take not with me any hint of guilt or regret. I fight with not valour – I battle with need. The field I step onto is not a place of death. For me the only thing that lies upon this stretch is completion.
For I will kill, and his life will be complete. And I will charge, and victory will be complete.
If you see not end in this horrid line of forever, then what is there but torture and impersonation? Who will you become if you have no end? Who are you if you have no beginning?
For the sun rises and the moon wanes, and the grass grows and people die. But who am I to say that time does this? If we become immortal and the moon stays full, will time have stopped? Nay! For time never existed, and will not exist ever – not in any battle I see ahead.
I will cause the fall of every horse, every man – and I will take down carriages and collapse empires! But I will never die. End for me is in the fight. I kill, and they end, and I begin and watch them end. It is not an eternal line, no. My forever is a series of broken pieces. For I am the beginning and they are my end – and to them I will be their forever.
For when they die in my rage of completion, my face will be the last memory they have.
They will die by the spear of Lu Bu.