Occasionally Bite the Heavens

Is the mysterious puppet from the unknown a gift from a father's love or an inescapable curse? The huge black shadow kneeling in the fog, is it a believer in justice or a servant of the evil god? Is the whisper in the ear a promise made by a sworn alliance, or a eloquent temptation? My father told me, give me freedom or die, but he imprisoned himself in the middle of darkness; my mentor taught me that only by living can there be hope, but he died singing with his head held high; my friend comforted me that I don't need to be successful, but he gave up his survival to others... Magic, swordsmanship, firearms, judo, curses, pollution... The world is slowly unfolding on the other side of what I'm looking forward to... This is a story about "a son inherits his father's legacy".