As always —
To perceive the man's fury,
One must do so seven thousand paces away.

The Kremnos he guards
Is once again shrouded by mist.
Rust, blood, and fire
Are the ceremonial ode to the demigod.

There is no one to witness or to give cheers of glory,
The final Kremnos Festival goes on without end.

The victor shall embrace death and silence,
And his glory
Will only be remembered by the defeated array.

For that man,
Laws and seals no longer have meaning.

War and battle never cease for a single minute.
Each passing day indistinguishable, morning and night entwined.

The corpses pile up,
Filling ravines, forming mountains strong.
He carved time with peaks' edge,
And counted the fleeting years by fires of war.

Sometimes,
The lion would climb to the hilltop
To look down on the world and search for friends in longing.

The distant heavens earth stretched vast and boundless,
But their endlessness felt ever more remote.

Like Nikador,
He cannot escape madness's clutches.

Guarding the city alone and embroiled in war,
The murmurs of the black tide constantly sound in his ears.

Yet a flame soars up his chest every moment,
Casting light upon the indomitable path behind him.

Memories seal the echoes of the past,
As the man strides into battle, fists clenched fast.
He is the wound this world must bear,
The new king before whom old gods despair.

As stated in Aidonia's poems,

Humans are born with eyes closed
To accustom to this world's light,
And their sight fades in old age
To reacquaint with night's anthems.

But the man did not bow to the decay of time,
Rejecting the lure of death's call.

With each return from the brink of death,
His eyes burn with fury, fixed upon his foes,
Until everything suddenly faded away,
Like a surging black tide swallowing all into nothingness.

The world dissipates in the roiling black tide's requiem.

Even the lion will one day die,
A departure with no way back.

With a sudden fall,
His pierced chest hits the ground
And slowly flowing into the underworld
Is his golden blood, departing his system.

“…”

But that gaze, fierce as flame,
Never dimmed, not even in death,
Looking beyond those flame-seeking figures
Reaching far toward the endless horizon.

In the morrow's sky, the stars will chant:
The lone king of Kremnos is called Mydei.

His journey was one of ceaseless, eternal warfare,
And behind him, he left a world ablaze with glory.