Every time I flip through a battle chronicle or scroll through a warrior’s memoir, the last stand always starts with a ritual—whether it’s a final prayer, a last drink, or a specific way the sword is laid beside the body. It feels like an attempt to give meaning to an otherwise chaotic death, a way to turn personal madness into a communal act of honor. The samurai’s tea before the fight, the Viking’s horn blow, the Aztec’s blood offering all follow that same arc: a brief, intense climax, a deliberate gesture, and a story that survives in myth and memory.