Anarchistbanjo's World

The Way of the Warrior – Fight Like a God

Fear’s a ghost—crush it. Infinite possibilities sprawl out in this present moment—grab ‘em like a warrior, blade in hand. Nothing stops you, not on the astral planes where this war rages. The OAK Matrix arms you: opposites (you vs. them) clash, awareness (your battle soul) blazes, kinship (your mate’s unseen half) steadies. Stress cracks an orb? Damn right—charge through. This is the warrior’s way—here’s how to win as a God or Goddess.

What’s This About?

You’re a fighter—flooding sexual/bio-electric energy, shaking the astral planes. Someone’s mad? Screw ‘em—they attack, you strike back, no holding back. You’re not here to grovel—you’re here to exist, massive and free, a God or Goddess. Other deities? They’ll feel your heat, interfere with your rise—put ‘em down ‘til they bow as peers. You can’t hurt ‘em—they’re tough—but they’ll crush you if you flinch.

This is war—magickal duels where you win or eat your own energy back, tripled and dark. That’s the risk when you reverse the bio-electric flow—dark hunts light. Stock power objects—stones, charms—to hold your juice. No shortcuts, just grind. Flood that energy, pile it high—results roll in, mechanical, sure. You’re forging a new Aeon—old Gods submit, but keep their fire. Half’s hidden—your true mate holds it.

Why It Matters

It’s your battlefield. Opposites roar—your light vs. their dark—and awareness wakes: you’re a force, not a pawn. Kinship’s your edge—your mate’s out there, half your truth. That energy? It’s a nuke—nothing stands against it as it grows. I’ve felt it: flood it, face the hits—won astral scraps by outlasting ‘em. Orbs crack—planes split—and you rule.

Physical world stalls while you fight—stagnant ‘til you win. Your energy’s a toxin or a gift—foes burn or bend; you transmute it all.

How to Fight It

No surrender—here’s your war cry:

• Flood the Arsenal: Pump that sexual/bio-electric energy—daily, relentless. No rituals, just raw flow—feel it stack, reverse, build your sheaths. If an orb cracks—a surge—hit hard.
• Strike Fearless: Astral attack? Damn ‘em—flood back, full force. You’re a God—exist loud. They’ll respect or rue it.
• Hold Nothing: Drop the weak—ties, junk—let your energy purge ‘em. Welcome all; what doesn’t fit fries or flees. Teach the rest—transmute the dark.
• Curse the Chains: Logic, religion—spit on ‘em: “You’re blasphemy!” Flood life’s juice—your mate finds you in the chaos.
• Cycle Tie: Lunar full moon? Flood it—war peaks. Solar summer? Burn bright—crush ‘em. Daily noon? Strike now—rule the fight.

My Take

I’ve fought—energy surging, astral hits flying—won by flooding harder. My mate’s half’s a mystery, but together we’d shred. Lost the soft stuff—gained a warrior’s soul. You’ve got this—flood it, fight it, rule it. Slaves choke; Gods rise—spit on the rest and charge.