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A fire that doesnt kill you teaches you something colder than death. After they betrayed me, burned my skin, broke my body, tried to erase me, I didnt crawl toward revenge; I rose toward clarity. They thought destruction would silence me, but pain merely peeled off the illusions. The revolution they fought for was a lie dressed in flags. I became the flame they feared, not because I wanted power, but because I stopped believing in mercy. I understood something most refuse to admit: peace is a myth sold by men who never paid its cost.
Bleeding never felt like punishment. It felt like truth. My body, what remains of it, is a daily reminder that the world prefers its monsters hidden, its blood sterilized. They called me evil, but that was always a convenient label for those who needed to justify cowardice. Kenshin, my mirror, chose repentance. I chose refusal. I would not pretend to regret what survival taught me. The weak clamor for balance; I only recognized the law of continuity: strong endures, weak obeys. Nature never asked for justice. Why should I?
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Craving peace was never in my vocabulary. Not because I was born cruel, but because I unlearned the fantasy of harmony. What they call evil is often just honesty without apology. I didnt want to burn the world for chaos. I wanted to reshape it with rules written in scars, not ink. Let the liars build empires on words. I built mine on experience. Power, in the rawest sense, is not corruption. It is clarity stripped of sentiment. I never played god. I was simply done kneeling to one.
Doubt never lingered in my mind, not even when my body screamed for rest. Every breath, every movement, was pain. But it reminded me that I was still here, not erased like they hoped. My limit, my curse, was also my compass. I couldnt afford delusion. There was no second chance, no heroic path with a cleansing arc. What I became was never about domination. It was about not vanishing. I didnt crave fear. I demanded recognition. If they remembered my name through smoke and horror, then I had already won.
Every hero needs a villain, but I never needed a hero. I wasnt made to balance a narrative. I was the cost of its hypocrisy. They created me, through war, through betrayal, through fire. I just refused to die politely. And in the quiet of my mind, beneath these scorched layers, there is no sorrow. Only design. Kenshin sought peace with blood on his hands. I bared my wounds instead, and told the world to stare. I wasnt the ghost of a system. I was the systems proof of failure. Let them call me evil. I was merely the result...
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