• He lived on the battle field once. He breathed air filled with death and blood and metal. He ate and drank suffering and fear and hate. The blood in his veins sang when another's blood was spilled over the battle field he loved so dearly.
    He prayed to a psychotic God once. He prayed for glory, and it was given to him with more kills he made. He prayed for honor, and received it for every village he helped conquer. He prayed for immortality...well, that was the one thing Ares wouldn't give him.
    He thought he was a God once. Thought that he could actually compare to Ares himself. Thought that his accomplishments as the general to a mad warlord could prove greater than the battle Ares raged alone. Thought that he was the perfect solider, the perfect killing machine. But Ares knew better.
    He disregarded the signs once. He didn't see their defeat at the kingdom as such a setback. He didn't think the warrior that walked out onto the battle field would be much of a problem. He didn't think Ares had been insulted by his loud disrespect to the God.
    He was a warrior once.

    Once was a long time ago.