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It was spoken,
Once upon a blasphemer’s execution,
That the Devil a messiah has chosen,
A Crown that will rise above all.
The holy denied and shook their heads,
Cursing the soul upon their funeral pyre,
Until the screams and pleas,
Died beneath that poisonous choir.
Years passed,
Those screams now forgotten,
Words accursed scattered,
Ash buried beneath the land rotten.
Yet, the blasphemous prophecy,
Destiny’s own decree,
Bloomed to fruition under new aristocracy,
Sat upon a throne of rusted blades.
Oh Mighty Imperator!
Deliver the foul and the sinful!
Oh Wretched Usurper!
Conquer the pitied and the faithful!
He rose his banner high,
Marched his savage army,
To drain both Heaven and Hell dry,
Until nought but ruin and ash remain.
‘Son of the Devil will be crowned in blood!’
The blasphemers cried out,
As the defiled gold rested heavy upon his brow,
Their chants a prayer of the newly devout.
The land trembled before the monster’s blade,
Demonic legions subjugated,
Heavenly choirs silenced,
Until but his word as law was dictated.
Rebellion rose,
Quenched with but a flick of a finger,
Bleed dry so none could oppose,
Only husks of greying flesh left to roam.
Oh Mighty Imperator!
Deliver the foul and the sinful!
Oh Wretched Usurper!
Conquer the pitied and the faithful!
It was spoken,
Once upon a priest’s execution,
That a single soul shall not be broken,
A Sword that will liberate us all.
The sinful laughed and shook their heads,
Mocking the soul upon their funeral pyre,
Until the screams and pleas,
Died beneath that poisonous choir.
Not a year passed,
Those screams still remembered,
Words accursed scattered,
As the world a new era entered.
Yet, the hopeful prophecy,
Destiny’s own decree,
Bloomed to fruition under new anomaly,
Stood opposite that throne of rusted blades.
Oh Radiant Champion!
Deliver the pitied and the faithful!
Oh Wretched Deliverer!
Conquer the foul and the sinful!
A warrior rose from ranks of common man,
Solider with hands abstained of blood,
Set to take the world back where it began,
He who guided the lost with a gentle hand.
Priests preached glory of his name,
Angels sung hymns of heaven lost,
For all to hear, for all to see,
All blind to the cost.
The champion razed through the realms,
Capturing hearts of even those frozen,
Gathering them in an upfront,
Against the Devil’s messiah chosen.
All praised his light and glory,
His blade risen high,
Gathered beneath the banner holy,
The faithful sheep now stood as army.
Oh Radiant Champion!
Deliver the pitied and the faithful!
Oh Wretched Deliverer!
Conquer the foul and the sinful!
It was spoken,
That between the two,
Only one shall emerge unbroken,
From this blood-soaked war.
The holy denied,
As they prayed,
The sinful mocked
As they betrayed.
Yet, neither mock nor prayer,
Could stand in way,
Of the last prophecy scattered,
The truth that will pass without delay.
On that prophesized day,
By Destiny’s own decree,
Bloomed the war with one to stay,
The last banquet of the foul and the pure.
Oh Radiant Champion!
Deliver us with glory and light!
Oh Mighty Imperator!
Conquer us with blood and night!
First meeting was a toast of cup,
One filled with blood, other wine,
Until both were corrupt,
As they fell in each other’s arms.
Night of pain and passion ensued,
Where lust prevailed over blades,
Carnal fire quenched with enemy flesh,
Until the last star fades.
Battle awaited at the light of dawn,
Now abhor mixed with warmth,
As the Champion and Imperator clashed,
A new era starting henceforth.
Last meeting was a toast of sword,
One crusted with blood, other oil,
Until neither saw reward,
As they again fell in each other’s arms.
Oh Radiant Champion!
Deliver us with glory and light!
Oh Mighty Imperator!
Conquer us with blood and night!
To this day,
Men and women speak,
Of that grotesque display,
Witnessed as the dust has settled.
Hero and Monster,
Blades buried to the hilts in flesh,
In embrace not of enemies,
But of lovers fresh.
Neither the Deliverer,
Nor the Conqueror,
Lived to see the next sun’s rise,
The love dying on the eve of summer.
Centuries passed,
Their bodies long rotten,
Ashes long scattered to the winds vast,
Yet swords remain locked in their endless dance.