When my journey ended, I once desperately longed for power.

When the nameless terror tore apart what the boy loved, he came to despise his own weakness.

The boy knew that perhaps strength was not the ultimate answer, but without strength, he did not even deserve the qualification to approach that answer.

In the depths below, within the past, her suffering will dissolve and be recast as his flesh and blood.

The death of an old friend, gilded in memory.

Even so, she will be a torch, a beacon, burning away all my darkness.

The stubborn war deity, standing at the pinnacle of might, was still unable to break free from the shackles of the self.

By the time I looked again, the celestial blue had already faded from view, leaving only the vast hall and the radiant glow of drifting fireflies.

旅途止时，我曾无比渴望力量。

当不可名状的恐惧撕碎少年所爱，他痛恨自己的孱弱。

少年知道也许力量不是最终的答案，但没有力量，他甚至不配拥有接近那个答案的资格。

在深谷之下，往昔之中，她的苦痛会溶解，重铸为他的血肉。

故人之死，镀其记忆以金。

即使如此，她也会是炬火，是明灯，将我的晦暗一并烧尽。

固执的战争之神，驻足于力量的顶端，也没能越过“自我”的桎梏。

再看已是天青不见，空余满堂，流萤之华。