0, OKAMI:

My hero’s blood pools beneath my feet. Washes away with the rain. His breath comes in ragged gasps, punctured lungs clawing his throat for air.

“There’s so much you could do with your strength.” Lars smiles, the once ocean-blue of his eyes dimming as the storm approaches. “I could do so much if I had your strength.”

He’s right. Wealth. Status. Power. I have all of it. Never had to work for it. Never asked for it. Never wanted it. A prince waiting to be crowned, and all I have to do is listen to my king and only my king.

Kill a man. Kill two. Kill an army.

Kill your hero.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Turn a blind eye to the masses.

Feed your family.

Then yourself.

Then your family again.

Loyalty to the pack above all else.

Lest you grow weak,

Wolf.

“What happened to you?” I bite my emotions back – try to at least – a stray tear or two dribble down with the mourning shower. It thunders, I sniffle. The barrel of my pistol digs deeper into his forehead. “You were my hero.”

He cackles. Spits at my shoes. “Still chasing that dream, eh? Heroes don’t exist, not in Kizytria.” Lars’ body laxes as if already dead, toxic envy filling his lungs instead of oxygen. “Nothing happened to me. You just got older.”

With a jolt of his arm, dagger in hand, a silver farewell soars toward my face.

I pull the trigger.

It’s raining. It always is in Kizytria.