Rygelon stood proud and tall,
to this bunch, he’d never fall.
To this thrash he’d never yield!
…but they kept getting to their feet?
The stars were at his fingertips,
his spell impacts cracked like whips.
Explosions, holes, unstable matter
none could call themselves his better.
Yet they attacked again, again
grim, determined, to the last man.
He raged, he struck, he laid them low
He was master of the battle’s flow!
Yet their courage shone unwavering
Were they not in awe, shaking, quavering?
His confidence was without peer,
the course of battle, he would steer!
Fear was his armour, might his shield
victory his battlefield.
Why did they charge once more?
Was it death that they were looking for?
Did they not know they were defeated?
Was his might unappreciated?
His terror reigned supreme,
he’d cure them of their foolish dream.
Yet they kept coming like the tide,
would they never tire of this fight?
And slowly, doubt crept up on him
Could he forever win?
No, they knew something he did not
a lesson, he long ago forgot:
Determination wins the day
before it, everything gives way.
And they could pierce the veil of gloom:
would spell his doom.