It was rare that I ever saw my sister from then on, a few years passed as missions brushed by as did time.
Before long, I was hailed as some sort of legend among killers; I didn't care. All I cared about was the money I made—sending it back home to my sister.
There didn't seem to be an end to it; I continued to grow and grow in strength—soon, the tender excitement of what sat beyond the walls of the capital was replaced by a desire, a plead for something to give me a challenge.
But it was only when I finally had time off did I realize the results of my own ignorance.
Returning to those slums, his nose wasn't accustomed to that overwhelmingly toxic, repugnant stench—but he didn't mind.
Wearing the trademark, sable, and crimson uniform of the Argonauts, the width of the somber slums was absent of anybody—none dared perturb one of his rank.
