A soul giving its best, difficult living conditions. Another burden on his shoulders, his pointless hard efforts. A messenger from the King, his stinging words. Boiling fury within, thinking on a solution. His sister requiring her medicine, needing money. Greed dictating this realm, casting numerous into the shadows. Countless suffering, many not caring, this horrible existence. The quiet area, his quickly beating heart. Wanting to shout, unable to do so. Holding in his frustrations, returning to his sister's room. That person on her bed, sadness in her eyes. Hearing the conversation, aching within her.

"Michael...?"

Flowing wind, going far. Treading over harsh distances, bringing in money. Much paying for her medicine, a brother not minding. That light within his life, those nights and days with her. Listening to her, their close bond. Yearning for a solution, fearing the worst. Intensifying pressure, his slowing progress. Facing the young woman, her sorrowful vision. Moving towards her, standing before her. His grim expression, a mercenary continuously trying harder. Disappointment constantly coming to him, colors of the heart. Witnessing this, horridness around every corner.

"Michael...just—"

Growing expenses, little money. Struggling to afford necessities, appreciating her brother. One caring for her, his efforts over the years. Wanting to give back, not able to do so. Her weak body, her worsening condition. Many sleepless nights from him, his never leaving nightmares. Putting in more determination, pushing even further. Taking dangerous jobs, wounds on his body. Smiling at her, stories of his adventures. Cherishing one another, a sister yearning for a better life for him. His dreadful eyes, this terrible situation. Holding onto the smallest hope, time still remaining. Breathe within him, refusing to give in.

"—Don't even say it! I am not abandoning you!" interrupting her, his hyper tone.

Streaming waves, running along its endlessness. A dark actuality, horrors branding on countless. Those finding their way, others wandering in a terrible abyss. Seeking what is inside, deplorable actions paving the path, prioritizing survival. Ill news to the mercenary, his racing mind. His sister's vision below, expecting his response. Her brother constantly suffering, enduring this torture for her. Caring for her, their powerful connection. A tremendous weight on his shoulders, his never fading resolve. Slowly calming, a sigh leaving him, sitting down at her bedside. Understanding her concern, his unwillingness to walk away.

"Don't worry, I'll find an even better hunting job. If we can save just a bit, we can get out of this damn place..." Assuring her, his hand over her own.

His dangerous ventures, slaying his enemies. Wounds scarring him, hope in his heart, believing in the tiniest possibility. A terrible kingdom, yearning to leave it. Needing a miracle, his sister's pitiful health. Searching high and low, answers eluding, a chance existing elsewhere. Later that day, the mercenary at a bar. Sitting down in a corner alone, his distressing eyes.

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The dim light in the area, tables around. Chattering from some, his ill mood. Thinking on a job, requiring it to cover his new expenses. Needing the best quality medicine, his frustratingly shaking hand. Noticing movements in his direction, glancing to the person. A man cloaking in black, this suspicious individual. Those coming in different shapes and forms, a mercenary surviving this way.

"You must be the mercenary Michael." His hand behind his back.

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" the mercenary's bitter tone, gesturing his arm to the person.

Unhappiness from him, his heavy dilemma. Gathering money through his efforts, his many difficult jobs. Needing more for medicine, this weight on his shoulders. Despising the one in the throne, unable to think of a solution. This mysterious person before him, possibly another fan. His impressive battle prowess, numerous knowing him. A powerful individual, his pointless talent. A man not able to make a living, his sister's weak state. A hopeless situation, his aching heart.

"I might have a job up your alley, and this one will pay handsomely." The person faintly smiling.

Words catching his attention, his eyes on the man. A worthy job coming along, this possible break, a faint light shining on his path. His way of life, relying on the problems of others. Charging them in accordance, his great performance on the battlefield. Learning over his years, his awareness on cruelty. Not caring for others, concerning for only one. A harsh actuality, countless stomping on another, a realm dictating by wealth. Those playing within its game, numerous failing. Few ascending, this repetitive cycle. His chance to remain, refusing to give in.

"What kind of job?" Michael tapping the table.

"A simple one, simply escort the princess to the Kingdom of Vars. We have all sorts of people after her, this job here comes directly from the King himself."

Never ending troubles, despising that one at the top. This vital job, money dictating countless hearts. Suspecting the task, wondering on the reason. Value in the princess, his low standing. A desperate point, the King coming to him. Placing documents down on the table, a formal arrangement. Glancing to the man, gripping the information. Carefully looking through those files, confirming its credibility. Enemies over his years, those no less searching for an opportunity. Shortly returning his attention to the person, setting aside the papers.

"Very well, when does this start?" more interest from the mercenary, tapping down at the table.

"Tomorrow morning." That man folding his arms.

"Fine." Slightly looking away.

A job on his hand, needing to accept it. Those in his line of work, constantly burying their pride. His hatred for the King, requiring money. Staining his hands, cutting down his foes. His heart forever within, his continuously existing reason. Roaming in blackness, his never ending agony. Worrying about his bills, another's life linking to it. His attention on the man, witnessing them turning. The calmly shrugging individual, nodding from left to right. Their strange behavior, the mercenary noting his action. None truly caring for those bathing in blood, concerning with the results, yet something not right.

"Better not disappoint." The person walking onward.

I should have known then that something was off...but I needed the money...my sister wouldn't last without it. No matter how shady this was...no profit is earned without risk. I simply had to make sure I return alive to claim the goods.