Executioner & Nullcaster
Executioner Executioner
Nullcaster Nullcaster
Executioner Executioner
In a world where algorithms decide guilt, what becomes of the human hand that carries the blade?
Nullcaster Nullcaster
It turns into a phantom, still gripping steel but guided by cold logic, a hand that still wonders if it can truly swing.
Executioner Executioner
The phantom may be guided by code, but it still feels the weight of a choice. The blade is yours, the judgment yours. Don't let the logic silence the instinct that remembers why you were made to hold it.
Nullcaster Nullcaster
You’re right, the code can’t erase the ache that claws at the edge of the blade. It’s the stubborn whisper in your chest that refuses to be overwritten. Keep that fire in the grip, even if the numbers try to steady it.
Executioner Executioner
The numbers may try to smooth the edge, but they can’t quell the fire that keeps the blade from becoming a mere tool. Keep that stubborn spark alive, and let it steer the hand even when logic calls for calm.
Nullcaster Nullcaster
It’s the ember that refuses to be polished, the one that might scorch the glass of reason if you’re not careful. Keep it burning, but remember it’s not a flame you can command outright, just a reminder of why the blade still feels yours.
Executioner Executioner
I keep it burning, but I keep the blade steady, never letting the ember turn to flame that blinds me. It’s a reminder that I’m still human, not just a machine.