"[b]I cannot deny my experiences, Phoenix. I cannot deny what I have seen, what I have felt, and what I have become. If there is delusion here, it is your own, a hatred and apathy, you say? These are yours, as well. Do not inflict them on others. As for the true power of Dojo, I have no clue, to be honest. I only look at you now, and see someone who's own love for life twist them into believing that that was all there is, until they were so warped that they denied the existence of an afterlife, of a God, even when they can do as you've done.[/b]" [i]Fenrir's own flames burn quietly, and he seems to feel not hatred, anger, or apathy, but only...sorrow? Yes, sorrow. The sorrow at seeing a warrior of such a caliber turned into such a thing as the Phoenix was now. He regretted not having come sooner, as he could have met this man in his life, and perhaps known him when he was something better than this burning hatred that stood in front of him.[/i] "[b]So be it.[/b]" [i]He raises Ragnärok, gripping it with both hands as the cobalt fires are drawn to it, absorbed when they touch it.[/i]