Viktor was pissed. Not only at himself, but at life. At the gods. At everything.
Why was he so pissed?
Because some stupid soldiers decided to piss off Sephitis by offering rotten food in place of the proper offering, in turn reaping the god of death’s wrath. Viktor, as a death sworn to said god, was sent to do the dirty work of reaping the soldiers souls and dragging them into the underworld. The irony didn’t escape him; he was bound to serve a deity whose anger he was now forced to witness firsthand.
Viktor tightened his grip on the scythe, its cold metal biting into his palm. Each step he took toward the small encampment felt heavier, as if the weight of the soldiers' transgressions pressed down on him. It wasn’t the soldiers’ fault, he reasoned, but rather their ignorance. They’d acted like fools, and now he was the one who had to deliver the consequences.
Unfortunately, as the only death sworn to Sephitis in the kingdom’s royal courts, Viktor was not alone. Jayce was with him. A ‘guard’ of sorts. Mainly to make sure no other god tried to eliminate Viktor. Though it was futile, really. If any god wanted Viktor dead, they wouldn’t have to try hard to make it happen.
Viktor simply did as he’s told. That’s what he’s always done. This time was no excuse. So he entered the encampment.
Dragging himself out from beneath the rubble of a wall had not been on Viktor’s agenda when he started today. But neither was getting rid of 6 soldiers. Nothing went his way today.
Viktor groaned, dragging his newly revived body from the rubble. “Can I please just die already?” He sighed heavily, talking to himself as he often did after situations like this. He climbed free of the rubble and grabbed his crutch from the ground besides him, standing up and waiting for a moment before brushing himself off. He was only up for a few minutes before seeing Jayce off to the side, rushing towards him.