As a result of another street fight, he sits on the dirty ground of an aloof alleway of the Kingdom's streets. Tetora rests his head against the wall behind him and takes a long sigh.

The wounds around his body burn like hell itself due to being open and stained with dirt. They will probably get infected, but it's what a delinquent like him deserves, right? After all, he's classified as just scum that stains the Kingdom.

Tetora closes his fists. Thinking about what the hierarchy as turned him into fills him with pure rage.