All Corpses Beneath My Feet Are Justice

He has three heads.

One curses the world.

One thirsts for blood.

One merely sneers at something.

He has wings.

But he has never flown high, chasing the light within his reach.

He only keeps falling through the bottomless abyss.

At some point, the darkness behind him became his wings.

His hands can crush anything, but cannot hold anyone's hand.

The flames of heroes illuminated his lightless eyes, yet what he saw was a future where those flames had gone out.

Love cannot save him, because on the scales of happiness and despair, he is destined to hold up happiness with profound despair.

The world needs a hero who absolutely cannot be defeated, absolute hope.

The world needs an evil dragon who absolutely cannot be brought down, absolute despair.

Because the defeated will not be remembered by the world.

He is the pitch-black three-headed dragon, chasing, driving, and forcing them to reach the side of hope.