- The
Destroyer of Worlds -
Letter to Cyrus
Sir:
Whom are you, Cyrus? Whom are you that you would attempt to reconcile the mind of the dead with the mind of the eternally dead whose word you read at present.
Whom are you that we should even be concerned with your petty existence upon this Earth?
Whom are you that we should even be mindful of what you believe to be your talents and skills?
Whom are you that we should consider for one moment your aspirations or dreams?
Whom are you?
You are nothing.
You are nothing to us.
Your existence is nothing to us.
Your talents and skills are nothing to us.
Your aspirations and dreams are nothing to us.
Your existence shall be crushed. Your skills shall be paralyzed. Your dreams shall be destroyed.
Yet you believe otherwise shall occur.
You believe you shall overcome.
You will summon all your strength, your will, your drive to reach for the apex of life, of competition, to push yourself further against the one who embodies the evolution of essence.
Against the Destroyer of Worlds there is no recourse.
Nor is there any escaping the seeds of destruction that lay within you, or the destruction I will bring to you.
We are too much for you. And there is not enough in you to overcome what you shall see when you enter the ring.
What shall you think Cyrus, when you see before you 275 pounds of wrath. 6'3" of silence. No soul, a mind fortified with eternal damnation.
Look into our eyes and see your fate before you.
We shall strike you down. We will strike your passion, curb your lavish spirit. You shall enter whole, depart dismembered.
Remember those moments well. Learn from them. Or be doomed to forever failure.
Sleep on these things.
What you will face. You cannot know.
What your body will suffer. You cannot know.
What fate will you suffer.
Defeat. That is absolute.
Defeat, only defeat.
You will be vanquished.
Freddy Phoenix, one.
Cyrus. Two.
Sleep well.
May avarice haunt your dreams, and may avarice curse your life.
Whom are you, Cyrus? Whom are you that you would attempt to reconcile the mind of the dead with the mind of the eternally dead whose word you read at present.
Whom are you that we should even be concerned with your petty existence upon this Earth?
Whom are you that we should even be mindful of what you believe to be your talents and skills?
Whom are you that we should consider for one moment your aspirations or dreams?
Whom are you?
You are nothing.
You are nothing to us.
Your existence is nothing to us.
Your talents and skills are nothing to us.
Your aspirations and dreams are nothing to us.
Your existence shall be crushed. Your skills shall be paralyzed. Your dreams shall be destroyed.
Yet you believe otherwise shall occur.
You believe you shall overcome.
You will summon all your strength, your will, your drive to reach for the apex of life, of competition, to push yourself further against the one who embodies the evolution of essence.
Against the Destroyer of Worlds there is no recourse.
Nor is there any escaping the seeds of destruction that lay within you, or the destruction I will bring to you.
We are too much for you. And there is not enough in you to overcome what you shall see when you enter the ring.
What shall you think Cyrus, when you see before you 275 pounds of wrath. 6'3" of silence. No soul, a mind fortified with eternal damnation.
Look into our eyes and see your fate before you.
We shall strike you down. We will strike your passion, curb your lavish spirit. You shall enter whole, depart dismembered.
Remember those moments well. Learn from them. Or be doomed to forever failure.
Sleep on these things.
What you will face. You cannot know.
What your body will suffer. You cannot know.
What fate will you suffer.
Defeat. That is absolute.
Defeat, only defeat.
You will be vanquished.
Freddy Phoenix, one.
Cyrus. Two.
Sleep well.
May avarice haunt your dreams, and may avarice curse your life.