Just as the witch uttered these words, Anon began to feel woozy, and his footing grew increasingly unsteady. The walls around him undulated and warped, and as if materializing from nothing, an unusual figure now stood in front of him, as the time around the two sped to a halt. He gave off a decidedly familiar aura, but as hard as he tried, Anon just couldn't place it. The figure gave him a warm, but unnatural smile, before at last speaking up:
"To see it, you must have love. Both for yourself, and for another. Without this single quality, there is no chance of victory."
Anon felt the seriousness of the man's words. They were no mere catch-all being parroted back at him with cryptic intent; they were real, and they were meaningful to anon and anon alone. Who was he? Who exactly was Anon? And what did the man mean by love? To understand such personal words one would surely have to understand anon's heart. And yet... Anon wasn't the culprit, so what was the man trying to say? How could such vague and simplistic words possibly pave the way to victory? It was maddening. But for all the thorns he'd encountered, anon's passion was -burning-, and his resolve unwavering. If only he could see, see what the mysterious stranger meant by "love for oneself". If he just had love... didn't he have love? Didn't he once know love? Had he veiled himself for so long that such knowledge was beyond his grasp? ...No! That itself was it, that was the answer, right there! He had become so used to it, so habituated to it that he had forgotten it carelessly... and yet, there it was plain as day, in the last place that he, being Anon, would ever willingly choose to look.