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The familiar push and pull of his blades, the hydro energy tainted with blood. Not his, of course, he was too quick to take a hit. His many scars were from years back.
The beat goes round and round, the beat goes round and round.
This is where he belonged. He was a weapon of war. Pulcinella picked him thanks to his strength. His training outdid most others.
So what if all the local psychiatrists called that training trauma? He wasn't traumatized. That’d be silly. His time in the abyss honed him into the role he is. He went from being weak to being the one on the hunt.
The cavity in his chest filled in the heat of battle. The euphoria he was given when met with an opponent who matched his strength was unmatched. Unmatched, just like he is.
At least, as he was.
Ajax was not one to easily admit defeat. He scared people, he knew he did. One so scarred and sculpted to perfect form couldn't not be an intimidating figure.
That is, until he opened his mouth. Words were another kind of weapon for him.
Words are blunt instruments, words are sawed off shotguns.
He could laugh and joke his way through anything. He's sure he's caught the eye of many through doing so. Morax, that traveler person, that man who thought he was a god... what was his name again? Those memories were blurry.
So what if people feared him?
So what if they didn't take him seriously the moment he started to speak?
He didn't care. His only true contract was to the Tsaritsa and his family.
He wasn't lonely, he was surrounded by others. Yet, he still felt hungry. He craved violence. The soreness in his shoulders after heaving his weaponry around rooted him. He rarely took a hit anymore.
He rarely let anyone get to him anymore.
He is a weapon, not a true person. What kind of human lacks the will to keep going?
What human lacks empathy, or the light in their own eyes?
He was no human anymore.
He was hungry.
He wanted to fight.
Come on and let it out, come on and let it out, come on and let it out, come on and let it out
He's been falling short lately. Traveler. Monsieur Neuvillette. Morax. Signora.
They'd all defeated him, in wits or battle.
They were proving how naive and weak he is, deep down. All he has left is to fight, and yet, he is nowhere near the strongest.
Worst of all, when he was back in the abyss yet again, Skirk tossed him away. He was becoming weak.
A weapon is discarded when it breaks, hence, he may not break.
And so, he would not break.
Not when he could feel his bones twisting and snapping, his flesh pulsating with electro and hydro energy together.
He would become the electrifying beast that they called the foul legacy.
What's so foul about it, anyway? He poured his own livelihood into his power. This was yet another step towards being the best, which he will be. No one can hurt the most powerful man in Teyvat.
As he whirled through the battlefield, clawing through his enemies, both human and monster in tandem, he finally felt at peace.
Jigsaw falling into place, so there is nothing to explain
The feeling of bones crushing under his feet was fulfilling. He was soaked in hot, sticky blood, mixed with the mutilated organs of destroyed enemies. No one could hurt him now, he could keep going forever.
The sway and rhythm of combat is all he needed, the gaping hole in his heart was flooded with satisfaction.
He was whole.
This was his place.
However, power comes with a price. The changes in his body couldn't recover too easily, and he'd been expending his energy.
There's only so much life force one man can hold, no matter how ambitious they may be.
As much as he feared to admit it, he was starting to fall. He hit the ground, corpses cushioning his fall.
Regard each other as you pass
She looks back, you look back
Lumine stepped in front of him. "Look at you, Ajax. You are nothing. Just a poor little boy, who never stopped trying to survive the abyss," she sneered. "No one here will know you're gone, you weren't a person to anyone here. You're simply a tool, a weapon to be used and thrown away.
Now look at you, that's exactly what you let happen. You couldn't even stand up for yourself in the first place, manipulated into thinking this was why you existed."
Not just once
Not just twice
Wish away nightmare
Wish away nightmare
For the first time since that fateful day in the abyss, Ajax wept.
He thought he was clever, but he had fallen into the trap of the fatui. The sway of the abyss corroded him, he was but a mangled shell of what he used to be. No matter how much he prayed, he couldn't undo this all now.
You got a light you can feel it on your back
A light you can feel it on your back
His spine was snapped, rib cage obliterated. His limbs were mangled beyond recognition.
The foul legacy took its toll.
He wasn't the best he could be, but he was what he was supposed to be. A weapon of war. Even if he fell into a trap, he filled the gash in his heart. The gash where he longed to be human was forever satiated by performing inhuman acts.
A cruel irony, but at least he felt whole.
He choked, gasping out a few words around the blood he hacked up. "Well, traveler, at least my purpose left me feeling complete."
His consciousness was spinning into black.
This was it, he was gone. At least he was one with his legacy, one with the thing that obliterated him. No one else was worthy of ending him but himself, and that was how he would go.
He was no longer hungry.
Jigsaw falling into place