Roddick was the most difficult to understand guy I've ever met. He took everything I had and used it to his own advantage without even realizing it. When he first showed up in Haute at Badam's shop with nothing, not even a damn weapon, I gave him my own. In the pirate's cave, he wielded a sword with such remarkable ability; I stayed with him on his quest. Not nearly as amazing as my own skill, but still, there was talent there and I thought it was my duty to bring it out of him, optimizing his potential. I trained him, until I could no longer train. That bastard had surpassed his own damn master. The worst thing was that there was nothing I could do about it. He was seriously the craziest guy ever. He claimed to be looking for his friends with this other woman, Ilia, but when he found them, there was so much else he had done, and so much more he had planned. My sister, Phia- well, she's actually not my sister, she's adopted- she was obsessed with him. Same with Mille, and just about everyone else we met. He was such a damn likable guy, you couldn't help but be a bit in love with him. Even after he outshined my skills in battle, he let me tag along and drag them down. We both grew in skill immensely, but he was always a step ahead of me. Then, he just left. I felt no attachment to him surprisingly, but it drove me to be a better fighter. I swore that even 300 years from then, people would still remember me as the greatest swordsman in the world. I was weak, in the big picture. I trained for the remainder of my life, becoming "stronger than the crimson shield and stronger than my dad" like I had promised myself on Mt. Metorx after he left, becoming the greatest, but he wasn't there, so what good was it? Who could I compare myself to? It wouldn't be a problem if I could just return home, back to my dad, Lias, and Phia, the captain of the Astral Knights whom I had admired for far too long. But I couldn't go back, not after all the trouble I caused there. I was hated, and it stung. It was the most fucking horrible feeling ever. To have nothing to live for, to be reminded that no matter how strong I was, I was still weak. I thought about suicide every single night, when I was lying alone, with no one, and nothing. This is the story of how things were before that. This is about before I went down in history as the most miserable failure in history, despite my physical strength. In one word, I was broken. All because of that damn bastard…