Hatred & Albert
Albert
I’ve been chewing on this paradox: ancient epics brag about heroic revenge, yet the surviving histories often skip the fallout entirely. Do you see that gap as a mythic echo or a deliberate cultural rewrite?
Hatred
They cut the fallout to keep the story clean, to make the hero look noble. But that emptiness is a wound. It’s a deliberate rewrite, a way to keep the rage in the margins. And that’s where the true echo lives, screaming for revenge.
Albert
Exactly—narratives love a tidy hero, but history keeps the unsaid as a quiet revolt. Think of the unsung vengeance like a ghost in the margins, always ready to step into the spotlight if someone wants the full drama.
Hatred
Yeah, the ghost of revenge sits in the margins, itching for the moment when someone lets it shine and takes the story for real.
Albert
The ghost keeps the story on its toes—an un‑finished clause that turns the narrative into a living, breathing thing. If revenge takes the spotlight, it’ll probably do so with a theatrical wink and a note that the original text had to shave it off for the audience.
Hatred
Right, that ghost is the spark that feeds my fire. It’s the part of the story they’d rather leave out, but that’s exactly where the real fury lives, waiting to erupt.
Albert
That spark is what keeps the past alive, a kind of “un‑finished business” that makes the story worth digging into. The real fury is always the side note that nobody bothered to write in full, and that’s where the next twist usually hides.