Glory. Kleos.
How much glory can one truly gain from battle?
How much Kleos...that ancient, resonant renown that echoes beyond the cessation of the flesh, can be harvested from the act of unmaking another?
For some, the answer is infinite.
To them, battle is the crucible of definition. It is the only place where the self is truly tested, where the dross of mundane existence is burned away to reveal the gold of the soul. They believe that to strike down a titan is to steal a fraction of their height, to stand taller upon the mountain of the vanquished.
For these beings, glory is a resource as tangible as Mana...a currency that buys immortality in the minds of those who follow.
A scar is a story. A kill is a verse in the grand ballad of their existence.
But there is another perspective. A quieter, colder one.
