Zen’Ro! Desperate Zen’Ro, nervous and fearful
You fled through the wilds
Struggling and scavenging
Weak Zen’Ro!
Your desperation lead you to me
First Pokemon to be Taken
Remade by the power of the Deep
You wielded the Changing Blade
You gained power through Sword Logic
You unknowingly fed me through the tithe
Your reshaping was not complete
Your mind was not fully Taken
The Taken King was slaughtered before it was fully done
Listen! Zen’Ro -
You rose your blade to your master
You vowed to destroy the Deep
You called yourself the Defiant Blade
Foolish Zen’Ro!
You were shown all that the Deep is
Your resolve shattered from realization
You slew yourself out of cowardice
You have not stranded me
Your tithe have granted me material form
You have fed the Deep in this reality
Broken Zen’Ro!
Your actions have granted me strength
Your kills fed my existence
The veil between reality grows thin from my cuts
Ignorant Zen’Ro!
You have doomed your universe
You allowed me into your reality
I will Take them all
Yet when I look at Him, I knew he’s not Oryx. He’s an Echo, an extension of His will.
He’s the last remaining trace of the Taken King.
His appearance...he looks exactly like Oryx.
His head, the three eyes, the long garbs that drape down his body, the giant leathery wings. Even the giant blade Willbreaker lays clutched in his hand.
Yet at the same time...he didn’t look like Oryx. He glowed and shimmered like that of the Taken, like me. His eyes are three tiny white stars that burned hotly, looking down at me with scorn.
...
...
Having witnessed everything, everything that he showed me of Oryx’s rise and fall...
...It made me realize that my vow to destroy the Deep with the power of Sword Logic is an impossibility.
Look at Oryx, how it took him millions of years to rise to his power.
Oryx had killed trillions of life forms and exterminated hundreds of planets, he slew a Worm God, and created a vast army to worship him and grant him tribute.
Yet here I am, making such a lofty vow when I’ve only killed thirty Pokemon.
...
I can’t try to follow through with it, it’s impossible.
I would have to kill everything on this world, then I would have to extend my killings to other worlds that would contain life.
And even if I managed this, I would have to combat Oryx’s sisters, Savathûn and Xivu Arath who are both goddesses in their own right.
If by some miracle I do manage to slay them, I would have to then combat the Worm Gods.
And then the Deep itself.
Despite Oryx’s vast strength, his power never compared to that of the Deep. In fact the Deep was the one who gifted him this power, compared to it...his power was nothing to its vastness.
...
I thought I found a purpose for myself, one that would give myself meaning. To fight against those who sought to control me, to rise in defiance.
But this purpose is nothing but an impossibility.
I can’t achieve it.
Without a purpose, I am nothing.
Nothing at all.
...
...
Why...did Oryx choose me?
Why me? Of all others out there to be chosen?
...
Before the Guardians struck him down, he committed one final act.
He created a wound and chose to Take one creature from a completely different realm, a different universe.
He chose me.
Yet he died before I was fully Taken, thus leaving me partially shaped.
But why me? Even if the process were to forever be incomplete, there are other individuals out there that I’m sure would gladly accept this fate in order to become stronger.
...
...
...
I see it now...
He chose me because I’m weak.
A coward.
That I would break easily.
I see why now.
...
The Echo, he had no time to fully manifest it. So instead it waited behind the veil of the material realm, containing only enough energy to keep itself alive.
But every time I killed something...
I was also unwittingly granting it tribute.
With every kill, not only did I get stronger...but the Echo did as well.
That is why it started as a mere whisper, but with each kill it gave it the strength to fully take form. That is why it started speaking to me in force, before ultimately revealing its form to me.
Because of me, the Echo has obtained enough meager strength to make itself exist.
...
I have no true purpose.
I am but an expendable tool.
The Echo no longer has a need for me now, instead it will end me so that it can obtain the rest of my power for itself.
...
So my fate is to die.
I was never meant to become the Taken King, I was never meant to become the Champion of the Deep.
They were lies.
False promises.
Like cunning Savathûn, he deceived me.
...
I know this, for I was never meant to be.
For the Hive, disciples and champions created by Ascendant Hive are considered extensions of themselves.
Sardon, he was the Fist of Crota.
Omnigul, she was the Will of Crota.
The Taken were no different.
There was Damu, a Taken Knight that was the Horn of Oryx.
There was Stirok, another Taken Knight that was the Banner of Oryx.
Even a Taken Cabal was considered an extension. Sho’outh, Horror of Oryx.
My title, the ‘Changing Blade’, had no real meaning.
No real purpose.
...
I have nothing else to live for.
I have no path to take, no reason to continue.
I can’t fight anymore, for there is no point in killing.
I can’t continue anymore, for there is no point in walking.
I am nothing.
...
...
...
...
...
The Echo grins at me, his black fangs shimmering from its malevolent aura of the Deep. With a laugh he and the darkness fades, causing the surrounding world to return.
The Visions, despite them feeling like an eternity...not a single second had passed since the Echo forced me into my mind.
I’m standing in the same place I stood earlier, having stopped my charge when I sensed the Echo bringing me to the mindscape.
The metal giant stands between me and the four-armed creature and the healer, his cannon rising to fire another shot at me.
...
He won’t kill me, not with a single blow. My body is resilient, without the Light...he must strike me over and over again in order to end me.
And I wouldn’t retaliate, for what is the point? Why would I fight back when it only means that I would grant more tribute to the Echo?
Should I let them kill me...?
...
...
...
...
Wait...
...
...
...
No.
I will not let them kill me.
I thought I had nothing.
But I do have something.
A name.
Ren’Gul.
...
...
I have nothing to live for.
But if this name is familiar to me, perhaps Ren’Gul would know it.
...
...
...
I will die.
But not by them.
Not by the Echo.
...
...
I will die on my own terms.
My own choice.
But first...
...I have something to do.
...
...
I may be weak.
But I will be remembered.
I will exist, but in my own right.
My own way.
I will do one last thing.
One last act.
To show to the Echo and the Deep...that I will forever be known as the Defiant Blade.
