Crimson Tears Of The Divine
Amidst the sea of fallen comrades, their lifeblood staining the earth, a solitary figure rises above the carnage. He stands atop a gruesome curtain of death, his longsword an instrument of divine wrath. In its gleam, one could sense a challenge to the very gods themselves. We were fools to face him; my comrades paid the price in their own flesh and blood.
A desperate realization claws at my mind – a realization that I must escape this blood-soaked field and bring dire warning to the holy excellencies. I looked at my remaining comrades they instantly realized what I was thinking. They must know of this relentless force, this harbinger of doom. I looked at my comrades and as I turn to flee, fate intervenes, and our eyes lock in a moment of eerie connection. He looked at me and my comrades with his crimson red eyes. He swung his sword towards me. Why is the world upside down?
I thought. Then I realized that my head was cut by his crimson sword.
Time slows to a crawl as I find myself caught in the deadly dance of his blade. I see the malevolence in his eyes, a reflection of the abyss that has claimed so many. He cut through my comrades without batting an eye. The red moon casts an ominous glow upon the battlefield, and his crimson silhouette, now moving away, becomes a spectacle against the crimson canvas.
With an inexplicable calmness, I embrace the darkness. As he strides away, the embodiment of destruction and beauty, I can't help but smile like a fool. Amidst the ruins and the echoes of my demise, I whisper to myself, "Beautiful!" - a final tribute to the twisted elegance that accompanies the brutality of this merciless crimson devil.