Fantasy wrapped in lies,
His blade dropping bodies like flies,
The daggers of betrayal stuck in his back,
Trust and faith could not stand the attack.
Heart pounding, ragged short breaths,
Surrounded by the chants of bodies close to death,
Arms numb, yet still swinging the sword with precision,
He could not fail, that was the only precondition.
Unknown to life, Nor known to death,
His wake filled with wreaths,
His soul and his blade truly merged as one,
He shall stand and do what needs to be done.
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