It has been nine years since that gruesome day. It hurts to even recall it. My mother was murdered. She was left in a pool of her own blood and decapitated. A trail of clear liquid was on her person while her head was missing; handprints were on her neck. Indicating that she was forced. I never once seen the lady as my actual mother but I can not pretend as if I had no feelings for her. She took care of me when no one else would. Even though she was poor, I still got what I wanted, she never blamed me for her lifestyle or took her frustration out on me.

She was violated and murdered.

I never once seen the lady as my actual mother, but she took care of me when I had no one else would.

Seeing her in this state....it is not right....I will find who did this and rip their heart out from their chest with my teeth.

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I promise.

I was later admitted to a local orphanage where I was provided a room, a roommate, and three hot meals a day.

Sometimes when the weather is really nice the matron would let us enjoy recess for about an hour.

When I was first admitted, I was naturally not picked due to my violent behavior.

After a couple of years I am at the front desk asking for a pardon because I wish to be set free.

The assistant discusses with me the eligibility to leave the orphanage.

Normally, one would have to be sixteen to leave the orphanage but since I have been working for them for three years with no complaints I have unlocked some merits within the establishment. Things were going in my favor, I dreamt of this moment.

My journey alone in this world.

My journey of sweat, blood, sweat and blood.

A journey of revenge.

A journey of my revenge.

The story of Mors Sparta starts now.