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From the moment he was forged, he was a sword.
“Oh! It’s done!”
“He’s finally forged!”
Many people didn’t remember the moment they were brought into the world. Only after time had grown enough to the point where they could endure their soul, real consciousness arose within them. This continuous flow of consciousness created memories. For him, the lengths of his existence and memories were the same.
“It’s finally done!”
“The great protector has been created!”
“We have finally made him!”
Those around him, who had been whole from the start, called him…
“The Sword of Beginning!”
He looked at the people around him.
“Ooh!”
“O Sword of Beginning!”
The people before him looked poor. Their thin fingers proved that all they had held in life had fallen away like sand. Those trembling fingers, like many strands of seaweed swaying in the ocean depths, grasped his sleeves.
The poor people spoke to him.
“Our sorrow.”
“Our pain.”
“Our disappointment.”
“Our despair.”
“Our agony.”
“The oppression we’re under.”
“Our hunger.”
“Our thirst.”
“Please recognize them!”
“Please take...
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