As the sun begins to set, I reach the top of a particularly tall hill. Looking down from the top, I am met with a sight so horrible as to exceed even my twisted imagination.
In the valley below are countless corpses. A whole manner of monster corpses, from beasts of many varieties, lay in the valley, still showing no signs of decomposition. Wolves, goblins, massive deer with sharp horns, and many other creatures for which I have no name fill the valley, their sight grisly and stench horrible as they lay with glazed eyes and fatal wounds.
However, of much greater concern to me, are the human corpses. Outnumbered by the monster corpses by at least three to one are hundreds of fresh human corpses, covered in horrific wounds that I can only assume came from the various beasts against whom they had fought. Clenched still in their hands, the only weapons I see are swords.
I may be delusional, but I would like to think that I am no fool, and only a fool would ignore the evidence in front of them. And the evidence in this case clearly states that my corps has been entirely wiped out.
I race down the face of the hill, jumping the last ten or so feet and catching myself with a burst of air. Though I know that no additional haste now shall change anything, it seems wrong to make my way down the hill in a leisurely manner in the face of such a sight.
I immediately begin to comb through the battlefield, stepping on beast and man alike. Though I approached in haste, I care not for my comrades, really, and why should any care I did have extend past death? No, there is only one person that I am searching for here, only one whom I genuinely hope to find alive, or, perhaps even better, not find at all.
When I had first come across this sight, I had hoped that I would find it to be merely a hard-fought victory on our part, missing a great deal in the area of human corpses, showing that some survived and continued on. However, moving through the corpses in this small valley, swordsmen, mages, spellswords, and even some dead healers, I find that increasingly unlikely. If anyone survived this battle, it would be a small group indeed, and a group whose size decreases with every human corpse I count.
[But isn't it a bit strange? I see no demon corpse here, only an oddly varied assortment of monsters. Perhaps the demon employed monsters? I mean, it certainly seems the type of thing that a demon would do, controlling monsters and all. But if that is the case, I see no demon corpse here, that provides decent evidence of the enemy's victory. Alternatively, my comrades were killed by a roaming band of monsters. Considering that monsters don't normally travel with monsters of other species, I think that that can be pretty easily ruled out. Though there may be other solutions, I find it quite likely that Lector was telling the truth, that he lured a demon over and that this demon…]
Even my thoughts abruptly cut off as I come to a sudden halt, my search through the battlefield a miserable success. [Ah… yes, I suppose this is not unexpected…] is all I can think, for in front of me lies a corpse I know all too well.
"Reinhart…" I had grown used to not feeling much regarding the deaths of others, but such feelings do not fully neglect me today. For seeing the man with whom I had practiced so diligently laying dead in front of me, even I cannot help but feel a small amount of sadness.
However, to my surprise, my sadness is entirely incomparable with the wrath inflow that increased upon seeing the corpse. Already flowing in with the force of a river since Lector's betrayal, being compressed into a massive wrath core burning more violently than a star, the rate of wrath flowing into me becomes more akin to a tidal wave. I feel like a small vessel, incapable of holding the endless inflow of pure hatred, hatred begging to be unleashed on the world and threatening to burst out from my small mortal body in which it is contained.
Really, I hadn't actually been all that close to Reinhart. Add on to that that he was a heartless monster who would do anything to achieve results and the world hasn't lost much today. However, to me, he was still a person of value. I enjoyed sparring with him, and he truly did teach me a lot. He had a positive impact on me, and his death thus comes as unacceptable.
[This world, Lector, they colluded to take this one final person whom I did not hate. In all the world, there is not one person now who does not deserve eternal torment for this! All are guilty, as I have judged them such, and among them Lector is most guilty. As for this world, the orchestrator of this injustice, it deserves more than to just be merely destroyed… yes, it should be erased from the annals of history in its entirety, its evil shadow removed from all existence.
[This world, and all who dwell within, ought burn forever in the fires of hell! And who is more fitting to subject them to this punishment than myself, the greatest sufferer under this world's tyranny! The wrath within me begs to be released, I am certain that I can contain it no longer. However, I truly don't know what will happen if I do. Will I lose agency? Will I turn into a murderous machine? Or will the hatred be released in a physical manifestation of the internal flames, burning through this entire wretched reality? Honestly, who cares. So long as I don't die in the process, this whole world may be turned to ash for all I care. Besides, there really isn't anything that I can do about it any more. It is going to come out whether I want it to or not, better release it before I explode like a bomb or something. Maybe such would be possible, maybe not, but better not to test it. After all, it sure [feels] as though I am about to explode.
[So, I don't know what will happen upon releasing this power, but I know that I must. Besides, I don't want to contain it anymore. This fire within me has burned so hot for so long, to be free of it…
[Time to release.] While thinking that, I let go of the flames of rage that I have held inside for so long, allowing them to do as they please.
Immediately, my mind is overwhelmed by hatred. The amount is too much, the strength is too potent, and I immediately begin to feel myself losing consciousness. As darkness overtakes me, I am reminded of all this world has done to me, as scenes of the origins of my hatred play in front of me. The death of Reinhart, the frustration of the swamp, the betrayal of Lector, the injustice of the courts, the torture of Jorgenson, being enslaved, being tortured, being imprisoned, hatred, death, pain, in myself and in those around me. The wretched circumstances of my rebirth, the loss of all my power, all my time and prospects taken away, endless scenes of the evils of this world flash before my eyes and replay in my mind, further fueling the endless rage preparing to leave me. I welcome the sleep that relieves me from the painful memories, having no desire to experience them anymore, hoping that justice shall be carried out by this skill of mine.