Before meeting death,
The scholar already composed his own epitaph —

“This person's name was seldom mentioned by others,
Incomplete, just like his fate.”

He would sweep his own grave at the beginning of every Month of Reaping,
Staring long and hard at his stained hands…

Hands that never seek the benediction of gods,
Accepting only the tricks and plots his brain presents.

“Keep your distance from that blasphemous one,
lest misfortune follows you like a shadow.”
People warned each other thus before his lectern.

In those rumors, the scholar's hubris looms foul and vile,
He dares to proclaim ascendancy over gods, and defy the Titan's will.

But the one shouldering such slander pays little heed.

His lonesome figure stands aloof,
For he always believed,
That gods are no greater than mortal beings such as he.

Grove of Epiphany, the paradise of the wise,
Yet harbors one shouldering the name of a fool.

He calls himself a clear-headed teacher leading lost students,
Yet he rarely guides or teaches, apart from gifting a single saying.

Yet the rest of the student's life,
That saying often proves to be more valuable than gold.

Pupils often praise his words as divine utterances,
To which the teacher replies with sharp retort.

Apart from destiny,
He seems able to decipher all laws.

And now,
Even destiny may also be within his grasp.

It was not so in the beginning,
As he silently recalls the past under leafy shade —

“Faced with a god's edict, even I cannot resist.”
With no guidance given, he reaches enlightenment for the first time…

“Yet I sincerely believe this is not to be my destiny.”
That became the cause of the blasphemy.