I am Walther, A Former Executioner, And Current Alien. I Pray That You Won't See Me, As It Will Be Your End.
It couldn't be clearer. The world has descended. What they thought was an evolved state is nothing more than a ravenous, calloused state. Due to ancient prophecies and old-fashioned as I am known to enjoy, they have been personified as beasts to me. What similarities they have to the brutes of the wilds are further accentuated by their limited ability to grasp the actual truth. Egocentric, unstable, and completely uncaring. That is the true state of humanity in this present day. Darwin couldn't be any more wrong. Most people are so devolved that even primitive man has them bested intellectually. I'm afraid my prayers are in vain.
Their sheer aggression is their hallmark of their instability. One choice word that is unpleasant to their ears is enough to make them violently lash out. This more than perceived weakness is quite amusing to exploit. Childish taunts are more than enough to trigger the transformation. My experience as an executioner has left me well-suited for their disposal. These creatures are pathetic compared to what I once knew as prey. Perhaps I must be a hunter now, even I have a confederate heart. No matter. Whatever name the hunt takes, it is still the same. Mindless, unchallenging, wanton slaughter. The ease of my efforts needed to dispatch my foes makes it even more enjoyable. Heretics, demons, would-be blasphemers. All must die, and preferably by more own blade. I wish nothing more than to take undertaking alone. That way, all failure, and ultimately success, will be mine. Isn't it better that way?
The bloodstains on my coat prove my heart is in this. I want my redemption. My honor is to end this world's scourge. I want humans to love each other. However, this is a naive, unrealistic dream. They'll never love me, nor anyone, and only strive for quick carnal delights. This is the true essence of our new bipedal, and at times quadrupedal species, the collective beastly scourge. Whatever I did before has left me. Perhaps the time alone I have spent made me into this reborn madman. Whatever sentience you perceive in these scribbling is only a facet of my ability to make contact with you and unravel the truth. This is the end of everything, and no one will win, however, I am wicked enough to survive this longest night. I am sickened more by my own feelings than anyone else's. I do not care for one bit of these beasts, as I enjoy the visceral way I execute them. Transcendence is somewhere hidden between my dreams and this shattered image of reality. The elder told me the truth. His council drove me initially insane. That is the art of initiation. No one can truly do what I can do and be what we once knew as normal. Conformity is less desirable than being a stranger.
Each night lapses to the day, and the moon reveals all for what limited time it watches over me. I'll never rest again, not soundly, anyways. Remember me for my former good, and always recall that faithful hunter. He did this for all of you. Those who wise enough to hide themselves away will survive this cold, extended monstrosity of a night. One day, one night, that's all I really need. Death is plenty as my prey is fervent, and always looking for their maker. Their hate is forever silenced by my sheer will, and if I can keep my head attached to my weary shoulders, I might become one of them. Then, they will never bother me, because there won't be a chance to ever understand me. Not that the human truth found much kinship to my soul. I'm just as bad as them, but where they see a meal, I see a exciting slaughter. You'll die, everyone die, except I. Didn't you know that it would it turn out that way?
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