I am dead. This is my power.
Death's vision is clear; it is unclouded by man's vainglories and trivialities. Death knows neither fear nor shame. Its judgment is impartial. It is beyond corruption, and cannot corrupt. Its truth is absolute. Its truth is immutable.
It is my power. I write these words in the year after I died. The world still wars over oil as it has for decades past, and as it shall for decades ahead if my words go unnoted. Priceless blood and infinite tears stain every ancient wrinkle creasing the globe's scarred face, all in the name of oil. I know these Oil Wars well. I know them more intimately than even you who have lost your children, parents and spouses to them. I know them so because I was their tinder, and I fanned their savage flames to burn without end.
In life, I was a Hostman.
In death, I am truth.
Truth is the Hostmen's implacable foe. Save but death, truth is the sole force sufficiently formidable to end the Oil Wars, and capable of destroying the Hostmen's clandestine yet savage reign over humanity by their wielding the weapon of oil.
The Hostmen dread only truth. To the Hostmen, truth and death are inseparable.
Hence this, my Manifesto. It is my belated gift to the world. It is my legacy.
It is my mea culpa.