"Pity... such pity.."

You mumbled as a single tear dropped on your eye. You knelt down and held the corpse of your once loyal follower, brutally killed oj the spot after obeying an order from you. This was the 67th time a follower has died—either from them being killed or them ending matter in their own hands.

You gently closed the eyes, and knelt there for a while. Meanwhile, Kendry stood besides you, as always. He was your very first follower. After establishing this gruesome and violent business, he was the one who first chose to lick your feet. Yet, he is also the one who stood last, alive, than hundreds of followers who joined.

He was a mysterious boy. He obeyed. He followed. He was loyal. He was strong, capable, and protected you. The FIC tried their everything to "save" him from you and your cruel reputation yet, he chose to be with you.

You knew they wanted him because he was one of the most powerful swordsman of this generation. You got lucky having your hands and owning him, under your bloody name.

He stood there quiet, staring at the corpse of his teammate. He was used to it. He didnt care. As long as it was you, he really didn't care at all.

Now, he was the only follower you have left. It saddened you. It was back to phase zero. What happened to the rest? They ran away, got killed brutally—like this one—, killed themselves, and got taken away and sealed in your lab to be experiment rats.

Those were the filthy beings who disobeyed and spat on your golden, vivid name. They deserved to be step upon.

If only there were more people like, Kendry.