Chewed up and spat out by the tornado of despair he comes skidding to a halt on the sodden ground. Dusting himself off he glances back in awe at the impressive trail of destruction and wonders how he ever made it out alive.
He stared the beast in the eyes and held his gaze. Held his ground. Despite the swirling destruction of the winds of woe around him. Stealthily evading the sharpened blade edge of the swinging scythe of failure, with its poisoned tip and pain emblazoned steel, cleaving the weak and the weary. Forged in the fires of will and intent, his heart burned strong as the flaming mountain became a smouldering molehill, but what scars have been branded into his soul from such a duel. One man against a tsunami. Smiling and hopeful.
Self engraved in blood and pain, runes of wisdom engrained forever, branded in the brain. The trophy of such battles, interwoven into the warriors spirit and forever onwards into the heart of man.
With head down and hand on hilt, he staggers back to his lair, battle-hardened and foolhardy. A fool at heart, to think he could do battle with such an opponent, but with a ninja’s persistence, he lives to breathe another day.