Tower of Karma

Strike iron, speak with fire, strike iron again.

Sword forging was something that demanded tremendous patience and self-control. I've been watching my grandfather, a famous worker, from a young age, my father's back scratching to catch up with it.

Ugly, muddy, perpetual repetition. Fire and iron, complete in it alone.

I don't need words.

Iron, fire speaks nothing.

Hit the iron again myself, expressing everything only in its motion. My grandfather taught me to tap into iron for all emotional expression and thoughts. A thousand years, a history of Lewius that lasts longer than 10,000 years ago. Let's be oligarchy too. Let's be lousy too.

Because it was only in sword blacksmiths that it was spoken for them.

Gratitude, emotion, love, hate, pour everything into iron.

A sword is life.

The sword of Lewis is a mirror that reflects the life of the forged. If your thoughts on the sword are dull, you become dull, and if you are not obsessed, you are not able to gain tenacity. It doesn't break, it doesn't bend, it just hits the sword straight and forges. The unusual repetition gives birth to the goods.

What do you see in shaking flames, scorching iron?

Brad and Brenda had decided to marry, and they themselves had decided to marry another woman they hadn't really dated. I had nothing in particular to think of. It was something I swallowed a long time ago, and if it was Brad, it would always make her happier than I was, I had that certainty. So hatred did not arise in its place, nor did it create shards.

The day my son was born. For the first time, I looked directly at what I would call a family. I look at her tired face, I look at the squeaky, frivolous baby, and woohoo, I remember crying as I went back to the workshop and struck my sword when I had never been rocked so much in my life.

Warren laughs bitterly that the sword was a masterpiece that day too.

Happiness increased with every more family. Strike a sword on your chest with a small life. What a heartbeat of it. Gradually the joy of waving the sword faded. Love prevails, the sword blacksmith time to look at it was bliss. Think of the days that were full of love.

Little lives and a wife who gave birth to them and raised them. He thought love was something that would be vivid, but how it was for him to grow up over time, the same as iron. I loved you, I loved you more than anyone else.

He struck hard and iron to support the family, and forged his sword. Send great works out to the world and feed their families at that price. How can I create a half-work or something? It means underestimating the family, underestimating love.

Warren turned into Shura for love. I kept pouring out all my thoughts, stronger, sharper. Happy days, I kept projecting them on my sword.

Unparalleled celebrities if you notice. Still, if it's not enough, the man strikes iron.

My best friend asked me to strike a sword for my daughter's practice. It is also a good memory that since that war the obsession was relieved through her daughter, although she had been in great spirits. After that, thanks to my uncle's life consultation, I got the hang of it, etc., so I was stubborn again. I didn't believe it when I said I didn't teach you a sword or something. Funny, that one is funny with that one.

Really, that man was difficult.

It was tough when William and Bridget got engaged, too. I laughed carelessly when I started crying and wasting time in front of my house to punish her. Though it was the thought of being poked at the void that surprised the whole family when they saw themselves laughing.

The pinnacle of happiness. The best piece of my life twisted and I could do it. I didn't think there was any more then. Especially those who gave it to their son were the greatest masterpieces that were unbroken, unbent, unbroken, and combined unmatched stubbornness and acumen. It is a reflection that I put a little too much on my shoulder.

But I didn't see it. I was too happy to see you treat her like a real daughter, and my wife was anxious. She was too similar, to Brenda. My wife has always felt defeated. Because I didn't tell you one thing, I mistakenly thought I had torn my companionship, and the wound I forgot opened.

Out of sight.

No, because I didn't try to see it.

I was just thinking about how I was going to train my sons then. Someone has to inherit. I wasn't willing to spoil it because of my job and responsibilities, but I was still looking forward to it. One day my sons will be one of the celebrities beyond themselves.

That was even what I thought was my dream, my point of reaching.

I didn't even deal with it when my son talked to me. There's no way Brad, Brenda, or a son without a sword can leave the outside world that doesn't even work with his own power. It was getting high. He just said he was wasting it because he didn't want to inherit it.

That's what I thought.

My son left, my stepdaughter left, my children fell, and my happy time collapsed between them. Lewis has been cursed, rumors fly to the settlement, and my wife would have lost her place anyway.

I continued to strike my sword in hopes so that happiness would return without looking at it. I really didn't do one thing to do and escaped to the sword.

The result was the worst.

"I wish I hadn't married you. I'm really, really sorry. '

"No, I..."

My wife died with a burden in her arms. It would have been a different end if I had told you one word that I had come to love you. I loved her more than anyone, but I didn't tell her, so she scattered with mistakes. I would have hated you.

Still we were together because you loved me?

Lose everything, and still the man strikes the sword.

At least, at least - I don't even know what I'm praying for anymore.

The golden forest burns. Everyone around me became unhappy. What an ugly thing to say about a sword that struck like no other. If I said the boredom of a sword struck by a man who was aware but couldn't look directly at it and didn't move, if my grandfather saw it, he would throw it into a hedgehog mountain.

I should have been included in telling you never to make a sword again.

Cut off Lucitanian enemies with an ugly sword. mutilated with swords beaten up with countless, vain prayers. Ugly swords make moves ugly too. Ripped marks are like beast claw marks. I don't know what this is a sword for. It breaks because it can't cut, it destroys.

Throw it away and wave another waste.

They were exactly mirrors that reflected themselves.

I searched for enemies to cut off. Faced with the emotions that were turning away, he was just looking for a getaway. I can't forgive you if I look straight at you. I think I'm the one who...

'I'm sorry, Warren. Because of me, it's all, it's broken.'

Having regained his memory, Brenda was on the verge of being outfought under the great tree as he drew his enemies. She also believed, one who repents again, that she had broken the commandments, because she had gone out and had today's collapse. Because I couldn't forgive myself.

I liked you. But I prefer Brad now. I like Bridget. Me, too, I told him I was upset. Please, Warren, tell him... '

If I'd lived a little longer...

'What do you mean? Warren. "

"Blood!"

"Why are you holding Brenda? Why is she dead? Why, it's you, not me, Warren!

"She gave you the last..."

It would have been conveyed in her own words. That would have convinced even the guy with the navel bend. But it couldn't have arrived, such as the words of a man who was bigoted, silent, and didn't even know what his family was thinking.

It's all my fault.

Everything that I...

You sure about that?

Do you really hate only yourself, from the bottom of your heart?

The answer is no. Decline no.

If I hadn't hung it wrong, everything would have been fine. It's nothing but a miracle, such as the current state of fuck up to this point. I'm sorry, that's self-evident. But if there is something called destiny, then the perniciousness of it is beyond man's reason.

I hate the world. I hate a god with no entity.

Why did you create a world like this? Why did you prepare such a fate (scenario)?

Why didn't you create a world where omnipotence would make everyone happy?

The man did not speak of his predicament. I didn't make excuses. But it seemed clear, an unusual life. Why, oh, you have to suffer. There's a pile of hopelessness I can't stop hating on that one, because I see it.

Then who should I hate? Before I kept hating myself, before I kept denying myself, I saw the world. Everyone in this world lives to the fullest in suffering. Such people are beautiful. But if there are those who look at it, if there are those who make it into liquor dishes, then it is they who should be punished. They are the ones who should discuss it.

Turn down your destiny, kill God, and destroy the world.

The people who live in the world are beautiful. Lead them.

Destroy now and lead to tomorrow.

That is our hope (Excelion). Beyond cause and effect.

It is the last prayer of Warren Lewius.

The reason for the sword, stay here.