Let it be known,that now,i leave my weapons behind.I might have finally found a worthy opponent drenched in ancient magic.I shall abandon all my tricks,and let my shield pound the ground as it falls.It is cold,and yet i can fear the warmth of my fear breathing through the air.This feeling of fear is only one of the many memories of my former battles,and thus,i say to myself: " I have battled demons once before,yet never one as mighty as this.With hair as red as the flames from the dephs of hell,with eyes imbued with mystical stars,now long since dead.It is terrifying,the thought of merelly daring to touch and attack such a creature.Pure and sacred,it is beyond imagination.Alas,i reach for my sword,yet i let all my riddles and rimes,weapons mastered through time,fall alone in the desert that separates my realities.I am alone and still i feel not this feeling for i see my death as my very own salvation.