In his younger years, the Rabid Dog had once imagined his death, too.
Like thousands of common hotblooded young men in the Star Glory Federation, he was not scared of death, but he was scared of leaving the world in an unknown and unremarkable way.
It was the most dangerous moment of the Old Federation. Toughness was highly valued by society. War games and hero movies were very popular. The teenage boys whose spiritual roots had not been developed yet, having nowhere to vent their hot blood, mostly imagined dying like a hero in the games or the movies. It would be best if they went on a killing spree with a saber in one hand and a sword in the other, leaving a mountain of dead bodies of demon beasts before they dropped a few gallant words that would be duly quoted in the history books and marched into the overwhelming beast tide, carrying a burningly hot crystal cannon on their shoulder.
It was the perfect death.
