“It was at the end of the great Kaziba’Lac war that I first tasted the temptation of The Kiba. My battalion had been almost wiped from the furthest reaches of the Diaz quadrant when I, along with six of my most trusted generals found ourselves out numbered and trapped on the desolate moon of Galbizack. The Lazerat and his men had turned our deaths into a game, toying with us as if we were idiotic animals lured by unimaginative mating calls into the waiting sights of the hunters rifle. I was wounded and ordered my men to continue on without me, hoping that maybe I could figure a way to slow our enemy down and buy my men a chance to escape and survive, it was futile in its attempt, but it did not stop me from trying regardless. Twelves of them fell by my blade that night, and as I laid in their blood taking my last few breaths the Kiba presented itself to me with an offer of survival and revenge, the price seemingly minuscule compared to the purposed glory,” he swallows and wipes the beads of sweat from his brow before leaning forward and gripping his knees tightly as he stares into the young boys hollow eyes.
“The story becomes the stuff of legends from that moment on, and the galaxy soon came to fear me more than it ever feared The Lazerat,” he says as he allows a muffled laugh to escape his lips. “It’s funny to think how only a handful or more years have passed since that day and many don’t even know who that madman was, for when I ascend to power his legacy became but a fevered dream lost in the waves of time. Yet I need not tell you any of these things, for I see it within the burrowed holes that once granted you sight.”
“I still see,” the boy whispers.
“But at what cost?”
“The cost, seemed minuscule compare to the purposed glory,” the boy says as his flesh ebbs with power and a smile slowly grows upon his lips.