Zeus & Byzantine - Chapter 9: Strength

“Wiry!”

“Strong!”

“Weakness like this won't let you survive. You have to be stronger. Stronger than this.”

Have you ever asked yourself:

“Were we born into a system we never chose?”

A system, passed down generation after generation, that told us: This is the way.

Without questions. Without hesitation.

Is it truly right?

Is it truly ours?

“Where exactly are you strong?”

“So I was born human, right? Yet you expect me to be built like iron—able to fight like a professional boxer.”

“No matter the obstacle, you must endure. You must conquer.”

Aren't you tired?

Have you never paused to wonder—how strong must I be? And for whose sake am I fighting?

All of a sudden—A small rabbit fleas a tiger on the TV screen.

The brutal footage from the wildlife documentary is almost too much to watch.

“Was it wrong to be born a rabbit and not a tiger?”

I let out a long sigh, heart sinking for the little creature running for its life.“Is there no place for the rabbit to stand? If you’re weak, does that mean you deserve to die alone?”

It shouldn’t be this way.

Yet I feel it—being chased, devoured, again and again.

Since the moment I opened my eyes in this harsh world.

Please, someone be honest—

“Is the fate of a rabbit always to be bitten by a tiger?”

And so, human parents everywhere program their children:

“Survive. Toughen up. Be the strongest. Outrun the tiger.”

The world’s silent, cruel system: Strength and Resilience.

The winners are stronger.

The winners are richer.

The winners are smarter.

And the rest—the seventy percent—Ordinary people.Exhausted.

Working day after day, night after night, just to pay the bills.

Living by the rules of a system they never chose, but were told was “normal,” “right,” “good.”

Even when seventy percent of their souls are worn down,

They still dream and push themselves, programmed by every echo they grew up with:

Yay! — A group of men cheering during a video game.

Hey! — Voices roaring for athletes at the stadium.

Oh! — The shrill excitement of a boy obsessed with superheroes.

Wow! — The teasing voice of a man admiring a passing woman.

Excellent! — The quiet thrill of a woman reading a novel about a fierce, indestructible heroine.

But maybe—Maybe humans aren’t superhuman at all.

Maybe we’re just hiding.

Hiding our deepest, softest fears.

Covering them up with masks of strength, beauty, money, and invincibility.

Because admitting weakness?

That’s the only thing the system truly forbids.