False Idols

In Mannfred Curze, Promo by Mannfred Curze

Look, up in the sky.

It’s a bird!

No! It’s…

False hope. Something that we’ve all experienced. We hear the stories of these great and noble heroes that save the day. These people who have gone out of their way to be there for the little man, for the downtrodden and broken people.

But where are you when we need you most?

Heroes don’t exist anymore. They aren’t the selfless people we’ve been told about. The only ones who still believe in you are the foolish, the naïve, the ones who have never truly suffered, and think the slightest inconvenience to their lives is cause for a break down.

They’re the only ones who keep you up on those pedestals. You keep you believing that you, yourself, are the greatest hero that Arcadia has ever seen. But you’re not, not even close.

The Bleak has had many come claiming to be a hero, come to bring these people hope. But it’s all the same.

We get a small glimmer of hope, and then we see you heroes for what you truly are.

Nothing but self-centered, egotistical, monsters.

You don’t offer hope because you can, you don’t inspire us to be better than our base selves.

You offer hope, to reap the praise of the broken. To be idolized by those who have been lost to the world. To be served by those hoping to get just a glimpse of your help.

I’m no hero. I make sure the people of the Bleak know that. I’m not here to be idolized or lifted up. I protect the innocent because I wish to break the evil hold. I don’t care for the praise.

But you’re a kid, naïve and uneducated in what real darkness is like.

You think your little Kingdomblade means nothing when a knife drags across your throat.

You’re a false idol, Destructo Boy, and I’m here to tear you down.

Like every so-called hero who ever set foot in Arcadia. You eventually come down to the Bleak and become just another victim. Another exposed fake hero, trying to provide false hope to the people here.

Give up, before you’re exposed. Run home, hide in your little bedroom in mom and dad’s home. Play make believe all you want there, in safety.

Because, Kid, the world doesn’t need another false idol to parade around the streets.

I’ve seen enough of children like you, raging against the coming darkness. I’ve accepted that there is no hope, is no idols.


It’s about time you learn this lesson, Destructo Boy. I’ll rip that mask off, break your Kingdomblade. I’ll leave you a broken mess, your heroism spilled across the mat for all to see.

This is justice, for all the fake heroes that have betrayed that label for all the years.

This is the death of the false idol that looks to be lifted up.

Death is justice, justice is death.

Now, run, child. Before the Bleak eats you alive.