“Hear, people of Valusia,” he exclaimed, upheld by the wild beast vitality which was his, fired from within by a strength which was more than physical. “I stand here — the king. I am wounded almost unto death, but I have survived mass wounds. Hear you! I am weary of this business! I am no king but a slave! I am hemmed in by laws, laws, laws! I cannot punish malefactors nor reward my friends because of law — custom — tradition! By Valka, I will be king in fact as well as in name!
[...]
“But the law!” screamed Tu.
"I am the law!” roared Kull, swinging up his axe; it flashed downward and the stone tablet flew into a hundred pieces. The people clenched their hands in horror, waiting dumbly for the sky to fall. Kull reeled back, eyes blazing. The room whirled to his dizzy gaze. “I am king, state and law!” he roared, and seizing the wand-like sceptre which lay near, he broke it in two and flung it from him. “This shall be my sceptre!” The red axe was brandished aloft, splashing the pallid nobles with drops of blood. Kull gripped the slender crown with his left hand and placed his back against the wall. Only that support kept him from falling but in his arms was still the strength of lions. “I am either king or corpse!” he roared, his corded muscles bulging, his terrible eyes blazing. “If you like not my kingship — come and take this crown!” The corded left arm held out the crown, the right gripping the menacing axe above it. “By this axe I rule! This is my sceptre! I have struggled and sweated to be the puppet king you wished me to be — to king it your way. Now I use mine own way! If you will not fight, you shall obey! Laws that are just shall stand; laws that have outlived their times I shall shatter as I shattered that one! I am king!”