Swords and tactics:

Parting ways and killing lives


This is the point where we let go of each other's hands and bid goodbye.

We have gone a long way. Long ago, we were two souls traveling on our own, trying to win every combat with the challenges that come our way. We were almost consumed to death. We almost gave up. Yet, we found each other. We found a reason to stay strong.

I still remember how you impressed me the day we met. You swung your sword at full speed. In fact, had I not been that attentive, I might have been separated with my head. You were such a fighter—fierce, fast, someone no one could step one. I must say that I was impressed. No, I don't think I was just impressed. I was attracted. I was stunned. I was lulled into a feeling I wasn't expecting myself to feel at that point of my life. I feel in love.

I showed you what I've got—first, to make a good impression myself, and second, to make you realize that you would need me in your journey. I showed my tactics. I wasn't the battle machine type. I am on the system controls. I don't just fight in the arena; I control the battlefield. I manipulate all of it upon the palm of my hand.

Of course, you were more than impressed.

We went journeying together. We fought armies and won them without difficulty. We were the champions of the arena.

But then, I lied to you. I wasn't tough, really. I wasn't even brainy. All the things I have done are out of pressure and adrenaline. You were a natural fighter; I am a chicken trapped in some human male who had no choice but to serve as my host. I was a weakling. I was hiding in the shadows of my lies.

I wouldn't dare brought back to my memory that one day when you finally realized that I am just putting up a show. You saw my weakness. You saw the real me. You ran as far as you could. I didn't dare follow. There was nothing more to explain.

And then, we reach this path. This is the point where we let go of each other's hands and bid goodbye. Anyway, the blame should all be put over my never-sturdy shoulders. I must fed to the lions or vultures. I must be exposed to the world. I must be beheaded in the town plaza. I must be killed right away for what I've done. I must be killed by you.

You spared me, yes, but I might as well die than to be separated from you. It is not because I can't survive on my own. Even a weakling like me could survive by playing dirty tactics with the enemy. But then, I might as well die than to be away from my one source of life—you.

We are now to part ways. We are now to go on our own. I just don't know how far I could go from here. I don't know if I could even move at all.