Prologue

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"

As blood dyed the floor with red,

Looking at what was now dead

Faris said with a gleeful smile

As twice as wide as his spite

“What a beautiful color

It is crimson, river of horror

In front, behind and all around;

Whose is it by now?

One’s enemies or one’s humanity?

No need to care

For the elation is too high.”

Vengeance is such a bittersweet feeling.

And for once one was merry.

It was a twisted emotion

Making one forget in a moment of inattention

That metallic taste in one’s mouth

Making one forget

The grave one also dug beside theirs.

Irony answered the avenger

“No need to make distinction

For I love everyone with passion

Whoever is not you,

Should perish without curfew”

And so the river of blood

Turned into an ocean

The fallen hero

Long becoming the monster

His whole life he had abhorred

And until his very end,

He danced on the edge of insanity

                                                                 "

The survivor’s wrath

A lone figure was standing on a cliff by the sunset, looking at the book in her hands. It was a thick book, named the survivor’s wrath telling the tale of a child that saw people murdered his whole family. That protagonist never forgot his hatred, nurtured it, letting it grow bigger each day, each year. He constructed his whole life around it. And when he grew old enough and had the right abilities, he reclaimed the debt, making sure to murder everyone. No one was spared this time, neither ladies nor children.

The wind gently blew, caressing her face. With a thud sound, Litaniel closed the book tainted with blood on some pages, Pipa’s blood. This one book from Pipa’s collection she had never liked its story. At the end of it, its protagonist would go mad and started killing indiscriminately just for the sake of killing. His vengeance was accomplished but his hatred never diminished and the brief exaltation and sense of liberation he felt were of short life so perpetually he pursued that sense of deliverance he had felt, trying to feel it again with each murder, but continuously failing.

“Captain, it’s done,” said a breathless voice of a military man behind her.

Litaniel nodded, slowly taking her eyes off of the cover of the book. She turned around and sure enough the grave had been dug quite quickly. Her fingers clutched the book tighter; she wanted to throw it by that cliff, to tear it apart. But in the end, it was the book that Pipa liked the most, so she couldn’t not bury him with it. She walked towards the men in armor by the grave, in her head only one reality.

“Pipa, let me show you what real revenge is all about.”

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