A balance appeared to Dyon’s back as he charged forth once more.

He never really thought about it before, but what were the purposes of the weapons the four horsemen wielded? Conquest wielded a crown and bow… War wielded a broad sword… Death wielded nothing… While famine wielded a balance…

According to the order of legend, Conquest would appear first, followed by War, then Famine, then, finally, Death.

A crown and a bow… It could represent both authority and distance. Maybe not authority as in a King or Emperor, but maybe so as in autonomy. It came first because it was a choice.

The bow was a sign of distance. How easy it was to make a cruel choice when the problems that would result were so far away, so out of reach. However, the crown was also a reminder of responsibility, or more to the point… accountability.

No matter how far you were from the situation… The ownness was still on you.

Then came the broad sword. It was more forward, more savage. The decision had already been made, there was no taking it back, but now one had to bear the brunt of their decision themselves.

This was the very War the Battle God turned his back on. He chose to run from the responsibility, the accountability his title of War came with, and as such, he died before ever stepping foot into the Dao Realm.

In the end of it all, there was Death. He and his pale horse held nothing. There was no more choice to be made, there were paths back waiting for you, there was simply nothing at all.

An empty hand stretched outward to lead you to death… this was Death.

But what about Famine which appeared in between? He held a balance, sitting upon his black horse silently.

Was this a final call to turn back? Or was it a judgement for the crimes you had already committed? Maybe the reality was that it was both. Maybe at this point, there already was no turning back. That deep feeling of regret toward your own foolishness was only there to taunt you…

As they say… There was no medicine for regret.

So as Dyon’s mind cleared and the world became nothing but black and white reflected in his ashen pupils, he wondered… Why had the Heavens chosen to have Famine appear first?

Dyon didn’t need to think much more to understand.

Famine didn’t appear to ask him to ‘turn back’, nor did it appear as judgement. It appeared as nothing more than a question.

What was already committed could not be reverted. The conquest had already begun. The war was already being waged. The question was… Was there someone there to bear the responsibility? To take the accountability?

Who would balance the weight of the world? To take on this burden for themselves?!

Famine was a punishment. It was the plight of the people after the crown made its decision and after the broad sword executed it all. Who would take on this punishment? For the sake of common people, the innocent, the unfortunate… Who would take this weight upon their shoulders?

‘Take on the burden for the sake of this world? Absolutely not.’ Dyon said with a sneer.

Dyon brandished his dragon scaled sword once more. Instead of drawing back Thunder God after learning his lesson, he actually did the complete opposite, investing into it even more.

Lightning danced across his body as he attacked the horseman once more. However this time, his vision was completely different.

With every shift of Famine’s balance, Dyon read through the actions before they even occurred. Countless calculations flashed in his mind all at once, causing the trajectory of his blade to change every so slightly every split second.

The shifting of Famine’s balance suddenly increased in an attempt to keep up. Eventually, its movements looked no different than trembling.

Dyon’s opaque white eyes, his unbridled sneer, his body crackling with lightning… It felt as though the true God of Judgement had descended from the skies, making even Famine feel inferior.

Dyon’s sword passed through Famine’s defenses, tearing across in steed’s foreleg as sending a rain of gray blood onto the floors below.

He brandished his sword once more, sending forward another strike.

His body glided across the marbled floors, using the pouring blood no differently than a surfer would the tides of the ocean.

With another swift motion, he lopped off a hind leg.

The black knight toppled from his pedestal, flipping through the air with his hands still pressed together in prayer.

At that moment, maybe it was nothing more than one’s imagination, but it no longer seemed to be as calm. It wanted Dyon to change his answer. Before he died, he wanted to forcibly change Dyon’s mind.

His palms, pressed together in prayer, looked no different from a stance of begging and pleading.

Unfortunately, Dyon’s lightning coated body only flashed once more. His gaze seemed both vacant and somehow savage all at the same time.

The very same unbridled fury Dyon had felt when he learned of the World Tree’s actions bubbled up again. How dare these Heavens that took everything away from him ask for his help?

He didn’t know where these thoughts came from, but it was his truth.

His sword swung down, cutting off Famine’s arm. His opposite arm reached forward, tearing off his forearm. Finally, his sword pierced his head, exploding into countless pieces of flesh as Dyon roared.

‘I’ll only bear the load for my loved ones.’