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Watched the battle from the ether. He knew his body was wrecked beyond all hope and he felt an odd sensation, fear? guilt? no.. release. The demon had ensured that Kuaiji's body would not house a mortal soul again. A cage, it was.. and now he was free of it. He could feel the wind still, though now the wind of the ether, pushing him like a leaf in a hailstorm.
There. There they are.
The ground was white, cracked and angry. Fewer warriors stood, but the demon was among them. Kuaiji drifted closer, only to get pushed away again. So he chose another. Yes.. Her.
She was awash in rage, anger, and it was directed in the right place. Kuaiji allowed himself to be drawn closer to her, and whispered in her ear. He had no voice, but he was sure she would hear the words
I am Kuaiji Ill'Kator. I am the last of the whispers of ages past. I held the mantle of seven lands like a shepard king. I have spoken words forgotten by all but the stars, but I have failed here. I shall guide your rage, strike now!
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"Life is possible only with illusions. And so, the question for the science of mental health must become an absolutely new and revolutionary one, yet one that reflects the essence of the human condition: On what level of illusion does one live?"
-- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death
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