Walker of the Scorched

The birds of plague kiss the desolate land, and a world mired in poverty cannot afford a remedy. You struggle to understand the opposite of suffering, just like how the Latatoes can hardly picture millennia-old ice as they were born in lava. Countless sparks of flame used to flash in the sky. They came and went, rendering happiness to no one. Living beings who died unjustly used to be buried under the ground. They came and went, at least feeling no more pain.

You too yearn to escape this anguish, but indignation grips your heart. You fear nihility, and you resent happiness. If everyone faces Destruction, reduced to ashes by THEIR ferocious flame... and if the agony of being alive can be ended indiscriminately on everyone, then you are willing to close your eyes.

So, you forge ahead through sand and flames, determined to bring the entire universe down with you.