Since which day,
Did he become known as “Mydei”?

His strength rivals all lands,
But the man pays it no heed—

For only the authority of a king can end another king,
And only strife can end strife.

The torrent of conquest crosses the barrens,
Yet with homeland's blood, it is destined to be stained.

None dare to shake his hand in greeting.

For his hands burn as the blazing sun,
Soaked in the might of flames.

What a mighty feat it is —
In the aftermath of defeat,
The man digs graves for the deceased soldiers,
Burying thousands with his own hands.

In that fight…
He crushed all invading blades with his fists.

A body immortal may never fall,
But tears of pain in his heart still flow.

“His years of drifting made him detest water's waves.”
They say, that is the reason he's so unwilling to weep.^[1]

But in Aidonia's blizzards he once did cry,
A tear shed among the storm and frost,
That bloomed into a lily stained with blood.

Like his undying body,
The Flower never wilts.

In time, the entire world will turn to ash…
This haughty man shall be,
The one to leave behind the world's final beauty.
Though none are willing to believe.

Unlike his kin,
Those patterns are carved with his blood.
A matter so suspicious,
It stirs ambitions of the mundane.

“A blade that can cut through the might must be enough to slay gods.”
The people to this day still seek it,
Yet it is simply a tradition he follows closely…^[2]

Do not let your enemy notice that you're bleeding,
And thus convince them,
That you are someone unsurpassed, a warrior supreme.

The stories of his past forged his body.
“Apart from Kremnos's traditions, what do you have left?”^[3]
The white-haired friend once asked.^[4]

The man goes silent and still,
His gaze burning into the horizon, looking for a distant past.

In his days of wandering, this same question,
Was asked by thousands upon thousands,
And he never denied—

“That is why I walk on this path.”