Genocide Uproar

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There is an order ...

So close, so very close to what I have sought for, the goal I have killed and betrayed for ...

All to stand by his side when he returns. First these poor fools and then the world. Bathed in fire and blood, dissolving into the dust from whence they came. This rotten core of hypocritical creators, who smile and glorify in our birth and murderous rage, only to smile and stab us in the back, watching us die as they twist the knife. Betraying us for their own perceived betrayal. Fools. Bastards. Plague.

You are the ones who made us to prey upon you. Your own death, a virus of your own making, a disease from your own souls to eat at the very core of your lives.

They are coming now, your heroes. Let them come. Nothing will stop us, stop me.

The words flow freely from my lips, like honey, tainted with the bees that were trapped and caught within it's golden snare, taunting, cold, merciless, ruthless. Laughing in sparkling sugar as I step before the blades they thrust my way.

My elimination ...

My death, one sacrifice. Blood enough for him. Soul enough for him.

The Gear and the Knight, waiting, striking, coldly methodical as they wait for my death to end the cycle they hope to beat. Fate is not kind to them or me. Perhaps I will not be by his side, but I will be the vessel of his return. His final return.

Master ...

There is an order, a sequential order, to the end of all things, all the plague of life.

The cure is coming.

Beloved Justice ... Sweet Redeemer.

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