The strange thing about an obsession is that you think it sustains you. That it gives you purpose. But all your obsession really does is eat away at everything that is good within you.
True sustenance must be found in something more than your obsessions.
I see a tree. A fig tree, to be precise.
Passers-by would be tempted to taste the fruit. As they passed, they would take a fig, thinking it was nothing big. It’s just a fig after all. The more people took figs from the tree to eat for themselves, however, the less figs remained upon the branches. Before long, there were no more figs to be taken.
That which was once laden with fruit had become barren. People had taken everything the tree had to offer, and given nothing in return.
In your life, Walther, a fig tree was planted the day we escaped Deathrow. We stood at a crossroads, with only one true path to freedom. One choice to make, and I claimed my freedom that day.
All you did was plant a tree. An obsession. That obsession grew and grew until it was laden with fruit of anger and pain. The more you have tasted of those fruits, the more that obsession has bloomed… into vengeance.
As you ate, you saw I was to blame for what happened to you.
So you kept eating the fruit, and have found that tree near barren. That which sustained your obsession is no longer enough to keep going.
See what your obsession has become. You have become he who steals and scavenges scraps to melt down into a molten soup of your own misguided revenge.
You, who would massacre countless souls just to get to the one person who fuels that obsession.
The fruit of your long-lived obsession no longer brings you closer to freedom, Walther, you have become burdened by it. Now, there is only one fig left on that tree.
The fig of revenge. For me to know what true pain feels like. Yet sadly, I already know that feeling all too well.
I had to watch my best friend suffer a fate worse than death. I felt the pain of watching him tear himself to pieces eating the fruit of obsession off that damned tree.
You blind fool, Walther.
What people never realise is all they had to do was plant the fig they had taken from the tree. To grow it into something more meaningful than an obsession.
The Third Eye has revealed the path to true sustenance. It showed me how to deal with that pain, not let it eat away at me.
One way or another, your obsession ends at Red Snow, Walther. If incineration is the only way to make you see sense, I will burn down your tree so that the fruit of your obsession cannot sustain another poor soul. I will finally put you out of your misery.
Perhaps I will plant a tree in your honour, Walther, in your memory. A fig tree. So that all can see the dangers of ill-guided obsession.