Steel Refugee
[This is the old version of "Steel Refugee", I'm rewriting some parts, so head to the new version (Keep in mind, I won't be posting chapters on this novel anymore, but on the other one.)]
"A mere hunting dog," he mocked aloud.
A life lived not for himself, but to satiate his god's will—an inquisitor—the thing he saw as his purpose, his only purpose.
From fairy tales, such beings are spoken of with reverence and awe. A person of incomparable noble deed, one who lived with altruism and noble offset, without vice.
Ironic.
No. Fucking hilarious.
Because that same “noble” bastard was nothing but the same pathetic shit-headed boy he’d always been... he’d just become better at hiding it behind the facade of indifference forced upon him.
Naïve he was.
Shunned from society, born from a backstreet whore’s thighs, raised with patronage, growing used to condescending looks.
Hunger, fear, self-hate, and strife—all of it became the norm, all in order to reach his current self.
And now? He was Isolated from the world, forced in a cell behind four impossibly thick walls of concrete and steel.
Stolen from his sun, his purpose gone.
He waited.
Idle.
Rotting.
Waiting for anything.
Anything...
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~~~
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ANYTHING!
And 'anything' finally came.
In the form of [Terminus].
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[Disclaimer!]: I don't write anything related to harem or romance.
