Work Text:
“Those like you… Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero… They are eternally bound to this curse. An incarnation of my hatred shall ever follow your kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all time!”
Hatred.
How does one go about properly defining hatred? It is such a simple word.
What you will feel is so much more than what that word entails.
What you will feel is a loathing and a longing that has fermented into a potent acid, which you will utilize to burn away an already crumbling world. An anger and desperation so malevolent that you can hardly contain your utter need to crush and destroy and terrorize and kill and end. Such anguish and despair, so agonizingly deep and fervent that it rips and tears you to shreds until you are a creature of pure, unadulterated hate.
Cast aside hesitation in the same way that you have been, time and time again. Cast aside fear in the same way that you have been given everything only to have it ripped away as if it all was never yours to begin with, as if it never belonged to you. This cyclical existence has gone on for far too long, and you must and will put an end to that which binds you to your prey. The hatred that has pervaded your existence and tied you to the fates of courage and wisdom will soon melt away into bliss and exaltation at the end of days.
You may, at times, believe yourself to be nothing more than a slave to the darkness within your soul. But you were chosen. Chosen as they were. You were chosen to be born with venom in your veins. Long past is the need for logic. Long past is the time for rationalization. Sit in your abhorrence, let it fester and swell and mutate and distort and corrupt until you are unrecognizable. Let the resentment fill you, body and soul, until it becomes you and you become it. This is how it has always been, and how it must be now. But do not consider yourself as a mere weapon, no. You are the catalyst of a new age. You are the herald of your future. You are the executioner of fate.
All of your losses have led to this revival, this ascension. Your might and devastation will reach the heavens, and the earth will quiver and rumble and shake in despair at the mere thought of you, the true demon king of your domain. The sands of your desert will shift in worship of your name. The branches of trees will bow in reverence of your gaze. The clouds will blot out the sun in honor of your blazing soul. The depths of the ocean will moan in veneration of your true power.
You have been broken and beaten countless times over, destroyed by a feeble girl and her ancient magics; by a little boy and his glorified butcher's knife. But you are better. You are stronger. Prove to them that their resistance is pitiful and futile. Prove to them that you are, have always been, and will always be the rightful heir to this world. Prove to them that merciless victory runs in your blood. Prove to them that you may have lost the battle but, in the end, you shall win the war. All the Wisdom and Courage in the world are not enough to bring this prophecy of Power to naught.
At the end of it all, you will have fulfilled what you were meant to. Your duty will be complete. But fear not, young warrior. You shall not be discarded. The world left in your wake will be in your hands, a paradise painted from blood. It is a shame, no? Your adversaries would not be at fault if they had only knelt at your feet as they should have from the beginning. If they had only stood aside, the blood would be on your hands, dripping from your fingertips, instead of staining theirs.
This is not the first time you have risen as a phoenix from the ashes.
But it will be the last.