My path to becoming an immortal depends entirely on being beaten.
My natal magic weapon is the mouth pot.
My confidante and mentor treat me like a close relative.
It wasn't until her knife pierced my heart that I realized that those warmth and opportunities were just fuel for lies to feed the "vessel".
When my soul was gone, I stroked the pot in the depths of the netherworld and swore:
"Since I am paid with lies, don't blame me for burning this world as a lamp!"
When I return from the netherworld, I will no longer bear the blame.
It is a lamp that promises to burn the entire world of immortality as lamp oil - the world-burning lamp.
Very funny and humorous.