That's what they called me after the great war. A war in which many times I was on the verge of dying for all of them, for those who now discriminate against me. But lo, only known as an impaler and not a savior, much less a hero, but it could also be for a beggar or a farmer. Finally the war ended several years ago and only left misery everywhere.
Impalers like me were no longer needed. So what I became so good at, and spent most of my life at it, was no longer useful to me. After the war I spent several years as a beggar, which helped me to see people as something different, other years as a farmer, which helped me to see the importance of life, the field and its responsibilities, finally now I perform as a sword master. But my students keep wanting to hear my stories, as if being an impaler is something to be proud of. I remember much of every death I executed was because my life or my fellow students' lives were in danger. I had no choice. If it had not been so, then today we would be dominated by these cruel abominations.
I know that wherever I go I will always be called that. And little will they know why I did it and what my main reason was for going on. Although it bothers me that they judge me after so many years, I know that a few do recognize my past work and that is what makes me not lose reason and hope for this species. So I will die an impaler.Image source