Sometimes, one could put in all their effort to do good, and it would not be enough.
There were stories of those who sacrificed everything they had to save what they loved, only to watch it crumble regardless. Of beings who ran toward disaster with arms outstretched, only to grasp empty air where life had been moments before. Of heroes whose greatest victories still left countless unmarked graves in their wake.
Sometimes, good was never enough.
The weight of this truth was not that evil triumphed, but that effort and outcome existed in separate realms entirely. You could move mountains and still find that the village on the other side had already burned.
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One of Achilles's bodies crossed the endless Void with speed that defied conventional measurement.
