Power Drunk

"Bring me wine - the color of gods' blood!" roared Kazuo. He lounged indulgently amidst a mountain of silk pillows, gazing over the marble balcony at fireworks erupting in glorious commemoration of his return. Nobles and models fawned around Kazuo, basking in proximity to raw power personified.

A consort kneaded the dictator's knotted shoulders as another passed goblets overflowing with honeyed liquor. Kazuo guzzled greedily, wiping his dripping beard and bellowing "Again!" with imperious carnality. He fondled jewel-collared pets nearby, remarking "You taste all the finer now price comes in screams..."

This was the glory of existence Kazuo had yearned for squatting filthy in alleys, driven only by iron will to reconquer all he once possessed - and so much more now. None could resist his wrath girded by additional decades of cunning.

He would squeeze this nation, nay the very world, to brink of oblivion if it magnified influence. His petty rivals realized too late that banishing Kazuo simply refined his spite to a diamond vicious point. One now engraved into every forehead by bloody laurels and fear.

"We shall celebrate through week's end!" the dictator declared between lusty bites of roasted swan tongues. "Bring actors - make them portray my pathetic foes pleading mercy at gallant Kazuo's feet!" Riotous laughter echoed as corrupt nobles envisioned future rewards their absolute overlord might now bestow if they groveled enough in debasing performances.

None could challenge Kazuo now his heart pulsed invigorated with limitless purpose once again.