What.

Yes old friend, it's easy to condemn a killer. And the hardest to look through the windows of their souls? Did they want to be evil? Hardly. You see even the coldest b*****d who deems himself God over all else through stealing the lives of others carries the burden of the dead, yes, murderers only feel one thing; regret. Regret of having to ultimately feel pity for killing countless fathers, sons, brothers, wives, sisters and daughters of others. For us to judge them makes us no different. We're all monsters waiting to be triggered.

Can you hear the melancholic songs of the ravens as they circle above the rotting corpses, can you smell the sweet fragrance of death that hangs upon the midnight air? Do you understand now why you were named us such, Loki? Those myths.. those books that deemed your progenitor as the trickster who loved fault and whom also loved fixing his mischief are all apparent reflections of you. You've killed so many, sentenced numberless lives into their early graves but never thought of the consequences. How does it feel to smile through it all?

Anselm Lecter Creed, yes, remember my name Loki Greyhaven, murderer, betrayer, assassin. It'll be a cliche to say that my name will be the very last thing you remember but it shall be nonetheless. As you've killed even your beloved father I, his most trusted servant will take it upon myself to bring you deliverance. I who took up the oath of my church and my sword will be the vain sword of our creator. To bring death to those who spit on the light.

Loki unto Anselm: You seem to love to dwell in your hypocritical monologues you ignorant christian lapdog. There will be no justification to my deeds and even atonement is far cry for salvation. I chose to damn myself and you shall never have the slightest privilege of knowing what was the cause of those murders. The world itself is a dying cesspool of great and wonderful lies masking the rot beneath it. If only you knew what cause you so dearly served.

The murderer clenched his fists as tears streamed down his cheeks, he couldn't bring himself to raise the same sword which he swore an oath to protect his brethren. A sad fate that had consumed him, to have to commit patricide for him to free the kingdom from a poison that had lasted for centuries. Anselm was his unknowing son,an innocent soul driven mad by false doctrines taught by blind zealots of a once noble faith.

They call it poetic justice to have the grandson kill his grandfather's murderer in his father's form. A cycle bound by the cruel turn of the wheel which weaves our fates. Anselm drew Argentilham, a blade of great masterwork and the last of the few gifts the Holy Creator has bestowed upon humanity. A supposed tool which will end the evils on the appointed hour. The blade never answered the young man's call to spill his father's blood. Instead it's fine edges crackled with corruption as the souls of whom it has slain sang and wailed.

The taint of jade and multitudes of the shades of green began to envelop the sky, painting its hue with haunting palettes, destroying the infinite purity of crystalline blue. This very moment seemed like an eternity as the fates themselves screamed defiance at Loki's would be demise. He was... destined for something more noble. Redemption perhaps? Retribution? Or simply just a torturous means for him to stay alive and atone for his crimes? Anselm's will to deliver undue and blinded justice crumbled then and there as his own father, the enemy of every mortal man stood shaken for the first time. A horrid, morbid realization crept behind Loki's awareness; was he forever doomed to live and never find peace for his deeds? An eternity's respite even as the simplest reward meant everything to him but that was to be changed. Memories slowly began to surface, in his head it felt nice... welcoming even to know. remember and feel that he was once as human as any of us now. Loki froze, his consciousness locked behind a barrier of shock and guilt.

Confrontation 1~ Fin.