A warrior woke up one day with new seeds of dreams protruding from his eyes. He sensed that it is his duty as a warrior to conquer uncharted territories, his duty to be on the vast terrains of the world, exploring, and making a change.
As that warrior sling his sword, as the sun greeted his new endeavor, he knew that this is the only way he would live, or die. By pursuing his dream. His kingdom, would, at large, wish him not to go. Not to take the risk to travel to faraway kingdoms. If he had stayed, they would have summoned him for a battle many years from now, in a path that they have carefully engineered for him, a path on which his soldiers and generals will take to the battlefield first- him next. But the warrior wants to be the first to charge, he wants to lead, he wanted to do it his way. For six years he traveled in great lengths, and slowly, changes begun to appear.
His kingdom no-more discourages his journeys- they approve of it. The warrior found friends along the journey who would proclaim great support to his quest. Once a lost quest has now become a quest that is very much real, achievable.
And one fine day, the warrior finally sees the mountain that he wants to conquer, the mountain on which he wants to build his own kingdom- he continued walking on the path never taken before, up until he reached the foot of the mountains- he has to start climbing. The time traveling on that steep roads flanked with bright colors on the left and the sea to the right is up, now it is time for another arduous task- climb up the mountain. And at the foot of it- demons who are ready to force him to give up- demons who want that mountain never to be conquered, never to be charted on.
He looks at the legion of demons and realizes they are much tougher opponents than he had expected, he takes out his sword. For a brief second, he looks behind him, and he realizes, how much faith had his friends and some individuals from his kingdom had shown for him, and he had to do this, using their faith in him as a spur. He fought the demons, and with each blow he took, scampering him onto the ground, the warrior pushed himself back up and continued to battle. The warrior has been battling it out for more than a week, at the foot, trying to clear off the demons and find the platform on which he could finally start climbing. But as the battle prolongs, the weaker he begins to feel.
This time, another blow was struck and with a loud thud, he fell on the ground much worse than ever before. He is bleeding badly. And then he realized, despite all the faith that spurred him on, he is after all made of flesh and blood, having to battle it out all by himself here doesn't seem a possible task anymore. He wishes he had a soldier, or a fellow warrior, or a general, someone who would charge the moment the warrior in unable to pick himself up quickly enough from a blow. As much as he pushes himself up time and again, he feels his hands have broken this time around, he couldn't push himself up. He needs a hand to help him up. His sword alone won't do the job, his conviction alone won't do the job. The warrior continues to battle, because that is the only way he knows he could and would live.
But today, ask the dusk sets upon the sea, watching silently this battle at the foot of the mountains, the warrior knows no-one out there listens to his groans, no-one could see that he is bleeding, no-one would offer a hand. He will continue, because that's the only thing he knows how to do.
But as he watches the stains on his sword, blackened clusters of blood, he becomes convinced he would end up dying way before he reaches the top of this very mountain he wants to conquer. Despite clinging on that faith- faith that his destiny is here, the warrior is on the brink of losing hope. The pain pierces through him once more, a faint light flickers across the distance in this dark land. Faint lights aren't enough anymore, he couldn't find the strength to walk to that light.
Wouldn't someone, someone who would finally aid him in his quest, bring the light towards him? Is he not entitled to have his soldiers, ever? Is this a quest of a lone warrior? Will he die here alone, oblivious to the rest of the world, beaten and destroyed with his spirits?
As that warrior sling his sword, as the sun greeted his new endeavor, he knew that this is the only way he would live, or die. By pursuing his dream. His kingdom, would, at large, wish him not to go. Not to take the risk to travel to faraway kingdoms. If he had stayed, they would have summoned him for a battle many years from now, in a path that they have carefully engineered for him, a path on which his soldiers and generals will take to the battlefield first- him next. But the warrior wants to be the first to charge, he wants to lead, he wanted to do it his way. For six years he traveled in great lengths, and slowly, changes begun to appear.
His kingdom no-more discourages his journeys- they approve of it. The warrior found friends along the journey who would proclaim great support to his quest. Once a lost quest has now become a quest that is very much real, achievable.
And one fine day, the warrior finally sees the mountain that he wants to conquer, the mountain on which he wants to build his own kingdom- he continued walking on the path never taken before, up until he reached the foot of the mountains- he has to start climbing. The time traveling on that steep roads flanked with bright colors on the left and the sea to the right is up, now it is time for another arduous task- climb up the mountain. And at the foot of it- demons who are ready to force him to give up- demons who want that mountain never to be conquered, never to be charted on.
He looks at the legion of demons and realizes they are much tougher opponents than he had expected, he takes out his sword. For a brief second, he looks behind him, and he realizes, how much faith had his friends and some individuals from his kingdom had shown for him, and he had to do this, using their faith in him as a spur. He fought the demons, and with each blow he took, scampering him onto the ground, the warrior pushed himself back up and continued to battle. The warrior has been battling it out for more than a week, at the foot, trying to clear off the demons and find the platform on which he could finally start climbing. But as the battle prolongs, the weaker he begins to feel.
This time, another blow was struck and with a loud thud, he fell on the ground much worse than ever before. He is bleeding badly. And then he realized, despite all the faith that spurred him on, he is after all made of flesh and blood, having to battle it out all by himself here doesn't seem a possible task anymore. He wishes he had a soldier, or a fellow warrior, or a general, someone who would charge the moment the warrior in unable to pick himself up quickly enough from a blow. As much as he pushes himself up time and again, he feels his hands have broken this time around, he couldn't push himself up. He needs a hand to help him up. His sword alone won't do the job, his conviction alone won't do the job. The warrior continues to battle, because that is the only way he knows he could and would live.
But today, ask the dusk sets upon the sea, watching silently this battle at the foot of the mountains, the warrior knows no-one out there listens to his groans, no-one could see that he is bleeding, no-one would offer a hand. He will continue, because that's the only thing he knows how to do.
But as he watches the stains on his sword, blackened clusters of blood, he becomes convinced he would end up dying way before he reaches the top of this very mountain he wants to conquer. Despite clinging on that faith- faith that his destiny is here, the warrior is on the brink of losing hope. The pain pierces through him once more, a faint light flickers across the distance in this dark land. Faint lights aren't enough anymore, he couldn't find the strength to walk to that light.
Wouldn't someone, someone who would finally aid him in his quest, bring the light towards him? Is he not entitled to have his soldiers, ever? Is this a quest of a lone warrior? Will he die here alone, oblivious to the rest of the world, beaten and destroyed with his spirits?
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