'Do you know why I smirked? The reason is simple. I grew weary of weakness. I looked ahead and understood why the Demon struck me first, rather than the others. It was because I was weak. That is the truth of it, a contemptuous truth, and what a humiliation it is.' Kyle's thoughts echoed, carrying through the hollow silence of the lifeless sea that dragged him down.
His body drifted in that colourless void, but his mind remained active, gnawing at the memory of the blow, the brutal simplicity with which he had been cut down first, discarded as little more than fodder.
That weakness… it had shadowed him all his life. He had endured it, disguising it behind excuses, convincing himself that mere survival was sufficient.
But survival had brought him nothing but the Demon's disdain. No one had feared him, nor had anyone respected him. He had been branded the most unworthy to stand.
And in that brand, his Name was carved.
