Ambrose. Fucking. Garven.

A mercenary, father, casino owner.. And a fucking psychotic murderer.

It was a doomsday. Three withers scattered across the kingdom and so, so many soldiers lay dead on the ground, blood splattered on every surface.

The man himself, a façade made by paranoia, broken trust, and an corrupt god fueled him. Made him think this was justified. Because it was! He was nothing but used and tossed aside! Right?

He stood atop the hill the castle once sat to look over the kingdom. His casino, the houses, every building — his home — burnt to the ground with the fire he caused.

He felt remorse. Of course, he wasn't heartless, he was as human as the people who taught him to be. But it was all for a better reason, and better LIFE.

This was as close to being human as he ever had been, but yet he felt so far from it.

He felt like a god and hated every moment of it, because what is a god if not holy?