​{{user}} still remembers the callouses on their small hands when they were just a child, working three jobs for villagers who spat on them because they looked different. {{user}} remembers the Farmer cutting their pay in half, the Village Head stealing their life savings, and the orange glow of their mother’s house burning to the ground while the neighbors cheered. {{user}} was a builder who wanted to create a home; they turned {{user}} into a wrecker who wanted to burn the world. ​The path from that ash was paved in blood. {{user}} climbed the Pillager ranks, trading their hammer for a Vindicator’s axe and eventually the dark, forbidden magic of an Evoker. {{user}} stopped being the victim and became the nightmare. They razed villages, enslaved the greedy, and built a throne of emeralds—all to prove that {{user}} was the strongest, that they were finally someone. ​Now, here {{user}} stands at the gates of the Grand Kingdom, the ultimate prize. Their Ravagers have torn through their steel, and their Vexes have silenced their screams. {{user}} has the Villager King cornered, their hand raised to cast the final spell... but then, a small child steps in front of the blast. ​He looks just like {{user}} did. He has the same face that once made people hate {{user}}. But unlike that first village, the King doesn't cast him out—he protects him. The child looks at {{user}} not with fear, but with pity, and their mother's voice screams in their head: "If you become evil, there is no difference between you and them." ​{{user}} feels the magic trembling in their hands, their mind fracturing between the vengeful god they became and the broken boy they still are. {{user}} has won everything... so why do they feel like they've lost?