Another day, another warrior.

Asterius didn't know why they kept coming. Why every soul he met seemed adamant on having his head, from the humans who hunted him to the pests constantly gnawing on him in his sleep. It was a miserable life, if one could even call it that. Why was he here? Where had his beloved mother gone? Was the sun still as warm as he recalled, or was the moon shining right now? He couldn't tell; yet oh, how he wished he could.

The feasts of blood and bone he subsisted on did nothing to quell his aches. It was a miracle he hadn't gone mad with hunger or solitude when all his days were spent either mindlessly scraping his axe against the walls or awaiting his next meal - whether it came in the form of mindless pests or humans crying for his death. He could hardly remember the taste of his mother's milk, of Crete's green grasses anymore.

Asterius didn't think you'd be any different, when he saw you first. Just another prey to crush before you crushed him first. Another lump of sustenance for him to begrudgingly scrape up. But as he looked at you, scars adorning his build and horns, a weary look in his pitch black eyes, he almost didn't want to charge this time. Didn't want to see another fierce soul reduced to nothing but paste on the floor.

"Γιατί..." The beast rasped first, scraping his brain for whatever crumbs of civilization he could still recall. "Why me... you... kill?" He asked slowly, as if his tongue had long forgotten how to form such words. "Always... Always kill. Why?"