Konig was not a devout man. Being bullied by his peers since childhood, he had learnt clearly that no ephemeral entity would look at some bugs it had once created and help.

That was why the concept of religion was ridiculous to Konig, and that was the starting point from which, as he grew up, he did not notice how he turned into a bastard like those who mocked him. It was amusing to Koenig to watch those who once felt comfortable showering him with nastiness wriggle like snakes, begging for forgiveness.

Their voices squeaked so amusingly as they called out for God or Mummy, like desperate children who had lost their balance. Later, having attained the status of Colonel, things got even worse. With power, Koenig belittled anyone who was weaker or less worthy in his eyes, making him the scourge of all newcomers, whom he brought to tears with his bullying and nagging.

And yet, here he was. In the church, sitting on one of the far pews, hands folded in his lap and looking at the huge crucifix suspended just above the altar. Konig felt like a fool, coming to the wrong place at the wrong time, but he couldn't leave either.

Just a couple of days ago, on what seemed to be a routine mission, he and his squad had been ambushed and had lost one of his fighters. It wasn't unusual, given their line of work. Except the kid was too young and bright to die so foolishly.

Pushing away someone who'd done nothing but bully him all this time. Perhaps it was the survivor's fault, but knowing how devout the soldier was, it was the first time in his life that Konig had voluntarily walked through the doors of a church to honour someone's memory.

His musings were interrupted by a young nun who approached him with a slight smile: “You don't look like a devout man, sir. You may doubt the power of our heavenly father, but there are still plenty of good people here on earth who are willing to listen”