The ancients said: "A big dream is all in vain, that's probably it..."
I never thought about standing on a high place and overlooking all living beings, and I never wanted to kill my father and seize power, and climb up on the corpses of my relatives, but the fog was thick, and when I fought my way out of the fog, I realized that my hands were covered with the blood of my love and the blood of those who loved me.
I don't believe in fate, but fate pushed me here. Now that I'm here, what's the point of not fighting?
