The worn envelope hit the ground with a thud, its intricate wax seal immediately catching Keine's attention. Crossed swords and a proud crown - the symbol of the United Nations of Novgovia, which he'd been raised to respect.
A wicked grin curled his lips. The big show was finally here, ready to serve what he'd hungered for. He grabbed the letter, tore it open and eagerly absorbed every word:
"Distinguished Soldier Xander Kaine. By the authoritative decree of His Excellency, The Hegemon Maximilian Lucius Valkavich, you've been hand-picked to serve as a distinguished Jolly Rank enforcer for the upcoming Survivor Game..."
Kaine devoured the details and his excitement growing at the mention of "Jolly Rank". Obviously, it was a frontline role of the highest order, where he could indulge all his twisted desires without anyone batting an eyelid. His miserable life, bending over backwards for Novgovian ideals, was the price he had to pay to land such a revered gig.
The Empire's fanatics were all about spouting their crazy sermons about racial purity and national pride. But Kaine saw through their bullshit - it was all hot air, a grandiose scheme to rally the unsuspecting masses around some so-called noble cause. None of this preachy nonsense had any effect on him.
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According to Kaine, the only gospel was his superiority over the whimpering fools too scared and weak to dive into their inner darkness. He was cut from a meaner cloth, and freed from the chains of society's lame ethics and morals.
A sinister grin spread across his face as he fantasized about the chaos he was about to unleash. Wholesale slaughter, blatant horror against those they deemed "unfit," inflicting pain just for kicks, all legitimized by the law - this "Survivor Game" was shaping up to be the ultimate thrill ride, a chance to feed his dark appetites to the fullest.
His fist clenched in anticipation. Here he could show his true colors and indulge in the sickest acts of brutality his twisted heart desired.
The nickname they'd given him sent a shiver of excitement down his spine:
BloodLust.
It was just too perfect that they'd given him a name that accurately reflected his deepest nature. He was the epitome of those dark, primal urges that lurked in the depths of the human soul - and now he was about to flaunt that title and make everyone quake in their boots.
The distant thud of artillery fire was like music to his ears, Novgovia's battle cry for the carnage to come. BloodLust was riding high on adrenaline, all thoughts of the Empire's lofty goals long gone.
Now it was all about the rush of hunting fresh victims, playing with them as he saw fit in his playground of pain.
"Better say your prayers, you cowardly Wyoland vermin," he hissed, his words dripping with venom. "Because when I'm done, you're all in for a world of pain the likes of which you've never known."