Akio Tsukino

12/11/2025

Of Sticks Stone and Steel

The villagers all conjoined in prayer under the open night sky.

They prayed for a hero.

They prayed for a hero to slay the beast incomprehensible and eternal. They prayed a hero to save their village as they have tried on their own many a times till. They prayed for a hero to end the tyranny that was all they have known.

They prayed for a hero, for their steel and their leather served not against the beast. They prayed for a hero, for they get ravaged and slaughtered still.

They prayed for a hero under the open night sky... until it was set ablaze by the beast once more.

Looking at the state of the current world, you can't help but wonder whether the fate that us humans have landed ourselves in was inevitable or not. With every new story that comes out, it certainly seems almost natural; the evil disposition of elite and the world leaders. The structures at the foundation of it all so rotten that reimagining it becomes a feat of reimagining humanity itself.

We see the battles being fought day and night. We see the small victories that were achieved by heroic communities who stood up against tyranny and envisioned betterment for not just their communities, but for humanity as a whole.

And yet... the evil persists. More than that, it thrives. Evolving to not only match those that fight against it, but innovating to the point the entirety of the evil mass is obscured. We fight a leviathan knowing we could only hope to strike its tail and draw blood. The hydra with its heads in the clouds breath fire onto us in retaliation, but what can we do with our steel that penetrates not and our leather that scorches to the flames?

You and I, we fight. We fight despite the knowledge that we see no end. That the rich will get richer. That the starving are starved on the back of the labor we perform. We go out, onto the streets, and we fight. We fight for our rights while they take from us what we didn't think possible to take. We fight, and we fight, but what comes of this endless battle?

Worship we commit to in a religion of hope. Belief is all but what's left. We fight because we believe. Not in a tangible reality but against the inclination of evil. We fight because the taste of evil on our tongue is vile. The religion of hope, worshipping in the faith that evil remains bitter in our mouths.

A hero that can slay, neigh even comprehend the beast will not show. Should a hero such be born they surely must not loath the taste in their mouth. Hence it is onto us to fight. We fight for our religion of hope.

Because there is no branching paths for us. Either we continue fighting, for the sake of our children and our mothers, or we drown in the bitterness telling ourselves that only the hero is meant to fight.