A man becomes a paradox the moment he attempts to change, and only by accepting himself for who he is, without excuses or falsehoods, can any real change occur.
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Almost half of all of the stories I know started with the main character waking up. But for me, I was just about to fall into a deep sleep. The other half of the stories started with the main character dying, but it would seem for me I had never felt more alive.
I sat on a mound of demon corpses. Intermingled with us were the bodies of several demon hunters, individuals such as myself, clad in identical black attire. And yet, although I was a part of it, I seemed care about all the gorey mess around me. I was neither sad, nor disgusted, nor confused.
