'I wonder how everyone's been,' a young man thought to himself as he stepped off of a plane.

He was no more than 20 years of age, and actually had a fairly well built body for his age.

"Until next time, Sir," an aged man shook his hand.

"Until next time, Moran." The young man returned the handshake.

"Sir?" The man named Moran asked before the man left.

"Yes, Moran?"

"If I may," he began, "apologies if it sounds a bit presumptuous of me, but do you plan to use 'that' if the situation ever rises?"

He smiled.

"Moran, it will never come to that. There is no more need for my true strength. But… I can't exactly say the same for my title."

He chuckled slightly, walking away.

Moran turned back as well, smirking in humor.

"Until next time, God of War, Andrew Luciel."