In Serial

BEHEMOTH

8 127 35
Author: Type:Male

What is luck? What is fate? All we can do is stumble along blindly, a noose ever around our necks. And for what? Why do you struggle on. Every day, every single day I wake, I ask another day? Is this it? I want strength! I want power! I want to be above all, to stand on the highest peak of the highest mountain, to look down on everything and everyone!

I want, I want, I want . . . Fool. Naive. Idiot. Again and again, you have neither the skill nor the talent, not the body of a warrior or the mind of a sage. What can you do Magnus Lund? Are you happy? Ha ha . . I forgot about happiness the day I died. The second time I died I forgot about love. I've died so many times, forgotten so many things . . what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Well, I'm going to kill you, and it's going to make me stronger.

Look forward to it.

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