Prologue

Crimson painted the grass as a repetitive dull thud echoed from the silent hill, dirt and grass lay displaced as the silhouette of demon-like man punched the ground. Every so often a shrill scream could be heard intermittently over the thuds, and to an ordinary person this scream would sound ghastly and chilling. And if they took the time to listen carefully, the sound of pain and sorrow could be heard in that scream.

And as the sound of thuds stopped and the man rose from his knees if someone looked close enough, tears could be seen rolling from his eyes.

He despised this world. But most of all he despised himself.

Despite his immense hatred he stood there, tears rolling from his eyes, looking towards the sky as if proclaiming his hate to the world. All this power yet he felt insignificant, he reached the apex and yet he couldn't protect anything.