Two people stood under a tree. They were watching a funeral. The young man was looking at the funeral, ignoring the man behind him, while the older one was often looking at his face and trying to see if there was any displeasure. His black hair with a metallic shine was cut fairly short and his eyes were black, but they looked much more dull compared to his hair. His skin was pale, excluding his lips which still had some pink color in them. His face had sharp features that gave him a masculine look. Somehow, he was really hard to notice and his presence was like air.

"My lord, should I go and offer my condolences?" said the somewhat overweight man bowing as low as he possibly could. He looked so servile that one could imagine if the one in front of him asked he would even kowtow dozens of times. He was swearing inside his mind, cursing his luck. This man in front of him was named Drake. His fame, or rather infamy, had long been spread every corner of the underworld. That was why even though he could be said to be an influential character, he could not offend this man.

Underworld was a place where powerful made rules. It was a dog eat dog world. He could be considered as one of the top dogs here in this city. But this guy was like a dragon who ruled the world. If he just kills him no one would say anything and even blame him for offending him.

Drake was a killer by profession. A good one. His mastery in the field of killing had reached the level of being worthy to be called an art. Also since he knew how to kill, he naturally knew how to save too. That is, if he wishes to save at all. Unless one gained his favor or was more useful to him alive, he would rather put them out of their misery.

Drake appeared out of nowhere one day and steadily climbed rank after rank. No one could stop him. There was nothing known about this mysterious assassin. But if he took a mission success rate was 100 percent. This made him very popular before his habits were known.

One day the name Drake became the first spot among the underworld’s top ranked experts. In addition, he also occupied the respected number one spot for bounty offered for his head. Indeed, his bounty was number one among the world’s bounty ranking for a good twenty years. Almost every influential force wanted his head.

That was not to say that no one was willing to take on this request; rather there was no one who was capable to taking his head. No one possessed the ability to touch the clothes on his body, much less the ability to kill him.

He had a bounty of millions of dollars at first. Rather sizable amount of top rank experts took on this request. They went missing and were never seen again, not even their bodies were found. Then the bounty began to increase.

But nobody dared to take on this request ever since. This was clearly a suicidal mission. If one is tired of life there are faster ways to go to hell! Even after the bounty was increased many times nobody took it. Because this Drake, even though he was old enough to be his father or grandfather, looked younger than him!

It was said that there were people who could surpass limits of humans. Those people lived in ancient times and were worshiped as gods and great heroes! Their abilities were profound and mysterious. Nothing was known about them save for that they had immortality and were capable of great things. So how can this Drake be weak?

No matter how much you value money, what is the point of it if you are dead? Life is more precious and only living get to enjoy money anyway. Unless Charon exists, there is no way to use money you earned once you are dead.

Drake would act alone, unwilling to cooperate with anyone and was quite eccentric. If he does not like a client who offers him money for killing someone, he just might kill the client instead of the target. Thus he was not really getting any money or requests despite his success rate.

To remedy that he began to kill people he found despicable left and right and "requested" money from their enemies. No was not an option. Most of these hapless guys were people who did not even know him or people who barely had anything to do with the underworld. If he finds his victim's enemies detestable too he won't hesitate to kill them.

He had went on a killing spree like this until a great amount of people died by his hand. Even the Association did not dare offend him, so they offered him money and practically begged him not to kill that much. By then he had already killed heads of many influential forces and many people. Of course there were people that "disappeared" every so often still, but he did not slaughter wantonly. Besides death was not uncommon in this underworld.

"No need. Leave me." he said making a dismissive gesture with his hand, like shooing a dog away. If it was someone like another one of his superiors, he would feel angry in his heart. But he was overjoyed instead. His current situation was no different than a man in the cage of a tiger. Every moment, every action he could meet death.

Middle aged man did not even dare breathe until he entered his car. He was casually dismissed and was disrespected, but felt happy in his heart. If this Drake felt like it, he could break some of his bones at best, tear his head off at worst.

But even that would be a mercy. If he truly disliked someone, he would leave them alive after ensuring they had a fate worse than death. If he disliked someone, but not that much, he would torture them until he was satisfied then kill them. He especially had a fondness for ironic deaths. He shuddered after he remembered the fate of those who were unlucky enough to meet this eccentric assassin and eagerly escaped.

*****

Rain fell down the world as if trying to wash it all away. Clouds try to cover the sun, yet some of it's light still makes it to light the world in a shade of grey. Grey skies, grey streets, grey skyscrapers. grey cars... Soothing, peaceful, beautiful and melancholic. Drake took a deep breath as he walked in the rain and looked up.

A piece of grey sky between skyscrapers rising like mountains. Blocking most of the light in the city and making it a world of grey. So lowest floors were generally inhabited by people who could be considered as poor. They most likely would live under the shadows of skyscrapers all their lives. Highest floors were better and affordable only by considerably rich people.

On the other hand, he was given the highest floor in one of the best places to live practically for nothing at all. But he did not want to live there, so he sold it and used the money for charity. He even said he made this donation out of his kind heart. This line coming from an assassin whose very being was drenched in blood had made countless people speechless.

Drake was a man who really disliked excessive use of wealth. He liked plain and practical better. Why would people sit on a toilet made out of gold when a normal one can do same thing? Why would someone live at the highest floors while low or middle ones were just as useful as a house? He really did not understand it. If they had that much money and wanted to spend it, it would be better to use it more practically. If one had to show off wasn't it better to donate money to charity or science? God forbid, someone might benefit from it!

He sighed in his heart. Raindrops were depressing. They were a lot like people. It had an existence of seconds and it's existence not even remembered a minute. They were so small, so solitary, so alone...

Imagine both a raindrop and a meteor falling from sky. Both are water. You would view meteor which is a big chunk of ice with awe. Raindrop? You will not even register it unless you are under it.

In this example raindrop was one of the ordinary people and meteors would be one the greatest humanity has produced. Beautiful flames whose existence was same as a raindrop. They too had to fade away, but still they can leave behind something, living on in the memory of those who watched them. Most people would remember it.

Besides the ones whom people we call great, others are not remembered. From the beginning of the world billions of humans lived. We only know a few of them. Mediocre - or rather average - people were the ones who could not leave behind anything. Most people would find that all of these great people as successful. Then weren't billions of people unsuccessful? Besides what is success in life?

But people whom we call great and admire, what made someone like that who they are? What allowed them to progress faster and higher than all others? What allowed them to burn? Was it fate or mere chance? He could not answer. There were so many variables. If one variable changed the entire history of that person might change. But there always was something that could be called "talent" and "luck". So one could say "fate" existed.

Fate was an intriguing concept. Fate claimed that you had your own role in the universe. One simply cannot disobey fate or break free of its chains. But someone always HAD a choice. To live and to die is up to that person from the start. In a way you ultimately decide your own road, how you travel it. But you cannot choose the starting point and the vehicle you use. Some people start at a higher position and some gets vehicles way faster. This is what he would call fate. How can someone whose talent is like a bicycle can surpass someone whose talent is like a car? This race was rigged from the start.

In a way we both lacked and had free will. Basically no one can be considered free, but no one can be considered to be slaves to their fate. This truly was an intriguing balance. For the sake of simplicity he named the force that gave one his start point and vehicle fate. He called the force that allowed you to choose destiny. When thought that way, fate and destiny seemed opposites, but they were not. These two forces combined made one whole. Beginning and end were decided. You were born and you would die. You could only decide what you do in between.

He did not have any valuable talent than above average looks. He became who he is by chance. Otherwise his existence, he could not tolerate it. He rather wondered how other people could. Maybe their way of thinking was just different.

Everyday like ants they do their daily races. He wondered what goes on inside their heads? Didn't they realize just how much of their lives that they were actually living? Was their concept of living just different than his? He could not understand. In his eyes their existence differed little from worker ants. Do they not think about all of this?

If they read about life of a slave, they would feel pity for them. But their own lives differed little from life of slaves. Yet nobody seemed to care or notice. Even if they did understand, he did not understand why they continued to live, especially since death was a more painless alternative. What goes on inside the brain of other people?

His ultimate answer was he could not understand someone else for the world in his view and world in someone's head could never be the same. Ultimately humans had a small existence and because of that they had a small world inside their heads. Their world was their families, friends, people they knew. Maybe that was the core difference.

He himself did not have any family. Well, he did have parents and siblings he just did not consider them as family. He did not have any friends and he did not have a significant other. But these did not really bother him that much. He really did not meet anyone worth knowing after all. Even if he did, he doubted it would change him. He also sincerely doubted if he even wished to have a family, friends or a significant other.

He was lonely, sure. But loneliness had long became the norm for him. Now that he thought about it, was there any time he was not alone? He had himself, which was all that he needed, why should he care about the rest? His world consisted only of himself. That world was enough. He cared not even little about others.

He thought about his relatives.Funeral he just went to was his mother's. Even though he did not consider her as family, his parents brought him up until he could stand for himself. So he made sure they both live in luxury for the rest of their life. What he felt was not love. He just felt that he owed them and it was his personal policy to pay all his debts.

This funeral was the last debt he paid to his mother as well as his goodbye. Well, it was his last duty as a son. From now on he would not have to care about anyone and could leave this country when he could.

He watched the funeral in silence and out of sight like he always had done. He never met them in person for quite some time, because according to the official records he died on the battlefield long ago. He was also distant with them from the start. So he really did not have any problems. He never saw them for years. It was a weird feeling to see his siblings he saw as babies, with grey hair and slightly wrinkled faces.

He also found the custom of a funeral wasteful. After all, the spirit was gone, body was merely a vessel. Nothing but flesh and bone. It deserved no special treatment. Just dispose of it in any way convenient.

What was the meaning of ceremony? Not having it would be more practical. But then again, humans are not known as practical creatures and it is not like he needed money either. If he needed money then most of the world would have starved to death already.

Even before being confronted with war, he always had thought about life itself. His exposure to a lot of death and suffering just drove him to find an answer to his questions. What, exactly was life? What was it's meaning? What was the goal? Most importantly, what was the purpose of life? Did life mean nothing at all?

He decided life's goal was death. A game over in a sense. You may die yourself or someone might kill you. Both will get you a game over. Life is just a game, a game without an end except a game over and like all such games it is meaningless. He believed life itself was the time you "played". It might be hundred years or five years. To him both were same.

Ultimately most people's existences, including himself, wasn't worth anything in vast universe. Humans themselves could only affect Earth and that too was worth nothing in grand scheme of things.

Then what was the purpose of life? Since university, he found nothing to pursue in life. He went to war and saw only chaos, suffering and pleasure or guilt soldiers took from it. No greater calling or heroism. He had searched for the purpose of life in the place where people were most desperate to live. Still he had not found his answer. Then it dawned on him.

He decided that ultimately life's purpose was to have fun. Why does someone play games? Nothing changes in life because you beat demon lord. Nothing changes in life when one beats a game. It is a meaningless action, like all actions humanity had ever made. It's ultimate goal was fun and satisfaction.

Then he decided that he would live only for his own satisfaction. He would live only for himself, he would love only himself, he would trust only himself, to live all he needed was himself. Others? They were same as NPCs.

Being sad or being serious was unnecessary. Everything he would do, he would do it to have fun. He liked ironic deaths, which kind of became his signature, because irony was funny. He also liked torturing those who deserved it.

He did not know if he was a sadist or not. Because sadists were painted as people who took pleasure in others pain. He did not take "that" kind of pleasure. It was just fun and something he enjoyed, much like a hobby. Besides, when he killed someone wicked, it was just hilarious in a way a hilarious joke would be. It was odd, but it was a part of him.

He would laugh whenever he heard people scream and die a gory death. He noticed this tendency when he watched a gory movie back in high school. Screams seemed funny, as well as flying innards and pain in their eyes. Weird enough, he did not like some people dying that way. Fun was entirely limited to those of whom he judged to deserve it.

He also liked messing with other people. He had went to the fat guy because of this. What was his name? Screw his name. It was not like he was someone to remember. He liked to see him sweat profusely. Every word he says, he regarded as the word of a king. He was so nervous that it was amusing. He looked like he would lose control of his bowels when he went inside his home.

He opened his eyes. He was already home. He had learned how to split himself. One was walking while the other was pondering about whatever. Thinking was one of his favorite pastimes. Splitting himself was something he had learned but was not something he could teach. Words could not define it. It was a strange experience at first, but he had gotten used to it.

He threw himself to his couch and turned on his virtual dive. He disliked boredom most. So he liked games, novels and watching TV. They were fun and it was not like he needed to work to boot. Since the time he had returned from the war, he had a dream. To be the strongest in the world. Why? Because instead of bending to rules and trying to live by them, he could make them or ignore them as he wished and only strong had the right to own anything. Because only strong could keep what they loved. Strength ultimately was answer of all things.

Power gave someone right to do anything. Power was truly above all. As the most powerful human, he was above all in this planet. No one would defy him. He could have everything he wanted. Whatever he deemed fun, he could do it without thinking consequences. He lived a truly carefree life. If he wanted money he could easily go rob someone. If he wanted something he could get it. Power had given him this right.

Although he had power, there were actions he disliked. Not paying one's debts or repaying good with evil. Breaking an oath or a promise. His most disliked action was to harm the innocent. These were merely actions he disliked and because he disliked them he would rather not do them. These were by no means absolute rules to be followed. If circumstances forces his hand...

He also believed no matter how much humanity prettied everything up, we were not so different from our beast ancestors. Since the dawn of civilization humanity generally followed one rule: Might is right. He saw that it was true in the war. It was a place where you can do everything and no one would bat an eye. All soldiers had a small power. But power was power. More than anything else it was power that revealed someone's true self. Power meant greater freedom. Power to rule above those who had lesser.

He really did not have to go as far as go to war to see it. It could be seen everywhere. The weak, the forgotten, the abandoned... Those who suffer and those flourish on that suffering. In the end law of jungle did not change, it was only renamed "Law of concrete jungle". Strong only flourish more as weak perish. In the end man cannot abandon laws of nature. Weak could only suffer and curse their fate. For from the moment they were born their fate was to suffer and that was perfectly natural. It was harsh, but that was the truth.

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Even though it was around noon, he felt sleepy. He had an uncomfortable feeling in his chest and an ache in his head. He had lost himself in playing Martial Arts Online 2 that was released a month ago. He had not slept for a week.

Why did he like games? By now he did not have any rivals, no one could compare to him. But in virtual reality that was different. Death was not an issue, all you would feel was a minor bit of pain. That is why he liked these games. In real life he would never fight a losing battle. But here he could. Being able to have not serious conflicts was good. Death not being serious was a plus. Point of games was the ability to do things we could not in reality. Games were greatest invention mankind had ever made! He could say this with pride.

He even took his favorite martial arts from games to adapted to it reality! All of them were cool techniques and his most favorite ones. He was very pleased with this. Greatest expert and assassin in the world? That was just a side job. He accomplished the job he wanted in life. He could proudly decree that he was a jobless slob of a millionaire! He put his head on his pillow and quickly passed out then and there.

*****

A child was sitting in his room watching TV. He was watching a documentary about animals. He had a paper he was drawing on. Eventually, documentary was over and he had made his drawing. He would show it to his father later.

He looked outside of the window to find children playing. He yearned for a friend as well, but he hated games they played. He really did not like running or going out for that matter. Also his grandfather's foot was aching so he could not go outside. His parents were working late. He understood that they worked for him but he wanted to see them nonetheless.

He looked inside his grey room. His grandfather called it gloomy but he liked this color. Grey and black was his favorite colors. He liked the night and the rainy days. He could watch people running to their homes fleeing from rain. Also children would not play then. It was a time where he did not have to envy anyone.

*****

Drake looked at his brother and sister. They were both playing. His father could come home fairly early and his mother did not work that much. He looked to his grey room. He liked it. He just picked a very big - and very heavy - book and put it on the floor. He was lying on his stomach reading "One Thousand and One Nights".

Whenever he saw his siblings he was filled with anger. He did understand why. If possible he wanted to be a good brother like his parents told him. But his heart was filled with jealousy. Because what he did not, they had it all from birth. He had to wait for them to even see his parents, but now they were always around, watching over a crying girl and a mischievous boy.

Only his grandfather was close with him and his parents sent him away. Every now and then he could go to see him but he could not stay. Apparently he was sick and needed a nurse to take care of him. He then decided he would be a doctor he would heal him!

*****

Drake was studying in his room while cursing the teacher that gave him so much homework. But he needed it or he would fall behind others. When he brought home good grades and were praised by school his parents would be happy, then he could do whatever he wanted. But if he did not, then his mother would force him to study under her watch.

He especially hated math. He could not do it at all, so he had to exercise until he saw numbers everywhere. Why did it have to be so hard! He cursed once more in his head.

He really did not like school. Everyone was playing around or going outside. He was content with simply reading books and drawing. If he had to say, he sucked at drawing but he liked to make his imagination into something that could be seen. He would read books and would try to draw it like he imagined it.

He really did not know why he was not so good with others. Even if he tried it was like they just... drifted away from him. He had a best friend once, then a boy joined in. Before long, he started to feel like he was an extra. They had fun together and when he tried to talk they would smile at him, but he would feel that they were somewhat... displeased. Whether they really were or not did not matter. He would not stay where he wasn't wanted.

He could not particularly liked them after all. He always felt that he could not connect with them beyond a shallow bond. He liked talking to them of course, but even if they were to die he would not care. Perhaps this was why all his relations to people just collapsed. Maybe he just walked away and told himself that.

He went out with a girl once. Eventually her presence just became a burden to him. A responsibility like homework or school. He really did not understand why but this was true for every human he had met.

"Drake we are going to see your grandfather do you want to come?" said his mother preparing to go. His father loved his grandfather very much. He would definitely visit him once a week. His siblings was going with them too.

"I have homework. I must finish it first!" said Drake with a serious. no-nonsense face.

His mother nodded with approval and told his siblings to be as hard-working as their brother. Somehow that sentence was so humorous. He really would laugh. But he held himself back. He only showed a sad, mocking smile for a second. Did they even need to study? They already could skip grades.

Drake looked at the numbers again. He really did not care about homework at all. He just did not want to go to there. The disease his grandfather had was Alzheimer's disease. Even if he had become best doctor in the universe he could not cure him.

His grandfather did not even remember him anymore. His father looked young so he could somewhat remember him. He simply did not know how to deal with him. Because he had gone to a time where he had not existed.

He would have weird daydreams. He would claim a man was standing there for example. Why can't you see him he would ask. To be honest, it was really creepy. What if that was true? What if we were the ones who were not able to see them? It really made him paranoid when he thought like that.

He sighed. When he remembered his grandfather there would always be a dull ache in his chest. His grandfather who had an aching foot, who read him books, who bought him toys and snacks, who was always near him even when his parents were not, who was more dear to him than his mother and father, his most beloved person in the whole world... was just gone. He simply faded away...

*****

This year Drake would enter High school. He was nervous really. Because this was high school. Somewhere different. Like the first days of going to school. First time doing anything. He did not know about it, so he was nervous.

"What happened?" he heard his mother say very worried. He looked to the entrance and was flabbergasted. His father was crying, saying:"Father." over and over again. His grandfather had passed away. What surprised him more was that his father was crying!

Should he have felt sorrow? Maybe, but he did not. He was instead in a mixed mood of being happy for him and some relief. He pitied his grandfather. But for him life was a curse, death was a blessing. Death freed him from his long suffering.

He even thought that it would be good of them to put an end to his misery. Why did his parents and government prolonged his life and suffering both? He really did not know and he doubted he could understand. He already was worse than a dead man. Even though he was in pain, he was not even aware of it. Some patients should be able to choose death, if life was torturous and they would not be cured. For some death was the only cure.

He thought back to moment of his own death too. Lights dancing underwater like soft silk, last of his breath leaving him, feeling only a sweet release, nothing mattered anymore... There was no sadness, there was nothing at all. But he was in peace. He thought of death as a blessing. Not something to be feared.

How sad was it that he had never felt such a thing in his entire life? Granted it was a short life, but this should have been his most carefree times. He had almost drowned... nobody noticed. When he struggled, there was no hand to help him. There was no one who came to save him. No one at all. He felt the dull pain of being all alone in the whole world.

He could only smile sadly. Then his breath left him and he became like leaf upon the wind, a boat upon the sea. Not hindered by anything. Flying like a bird upon the clouds. Completely free.

He was feeling sleepy. He looked for the last time to the water and the beautiful lights. It was as if he had seen something very beautiful. Many such beauties entered his mind then, like starlight on the lake, setting sun's reflection touching the shore, the forest stream under the morning sun, the mountains under the moon...

He just blacked out. It was like going to sleep. But somehow he found himself alive, having reached surface of water, even he did not know how. Was it just a dream? But it was so real.

That experience of death, he could not forget it. Whenever there was something unpleasant he would think back and let himself go. He was filled with peace then. Comfortable embrace of death. That was the time he had changed his view of death forever. He was always contemplating suicide in his mind. But he was stubborn. He would not admit defeat. He would break the world if it tried to break him.

*****

Drake looked to his younger siblings. His younger siblings who, by now, was going to same grade as him. They both were "geniuses" and their lives was much more easier than his. When he started high school math took a ridiculous turn. No matter how hard he studied, he failed. No matter how hard he tried, he failed. That was same for other classes. He just could not climb above the wall that was "average".

But they on the other hand, were far better than him with less work. Unlike him they did not prepare for the exams, working for weeks and pulling all-nighters for days. They would study for some hours a week and boom... highest grades on all subjects! It was good to know hard work was meaningless, at least he did not have to work so hard anymore.

He was not even Drake anymore in the eyes of others. He was Drake, the good-for-nothing elder brother of the genius twins. Completely living in their shadow, they were like twin suns. He was just a small star which could barely be seen by anyone.

He had gotten used to ridicule, those who ridiculed him merely wanted an outlet for their own stress and failures. They were the real ones who were to be pitied.

Some even tried to bully him once. He finally snapped and almost killed someone. They all ended up in hospital. Ever since then he did not hear anyone saying those things. Well, they were whispering instead. They really must have thought him blind and deaf. Needless to say it really did not do wonders for his reputation.

There were also a lot of people who tried to take advantage of him. Like using him as a scapegoat among other things. Did everyone thought he was stupid? He was not. He merely could not do math and was average in other classes.

God had blessed - and maybe cursed - him with a high emotional intelligence, ability to recognize the body language and animal-like sixth sense which had once allowed him to escape to an open place before an earthquake. He could tell with what reasons they were being nice to him. He would not be used... if he could not use them even more so.

For him most of the people were crazy. Who knows maybe it was him who was being crazy. Either he was the only sane man or the insane man. Besides they all used devices to talk to each other. He hated those. He could not tell what someone felt. He liked to talk to face to face. This was the reason why he would never use such devices. It truly felt like something was missing in that conversations.

He did not really want "success" either. To be successful you had to go to highest university, be a drone of highest conglomerate, marry with someone of same status, have a few kids, then divorce, live to work, die all alone... How on earth was that a success? If these were sane people he would much rather be insane.

Drake turned his eyes and looked at the sharpened knife on his desk. Just one cut. All of his problems would fly away. But he saw life as a challenge, a warrior he needed to defeat. He would not be defeated. But now he had hesitated in that conviction. It was finally broken.

What truly broke this determination was the realization, that he - Drake - almost did not exist at the eyes of anyone, including his parents. They loved him, - When they remembered he existed, which was too rare and only when he had done something that made them angry - sure. But let us say that all three of their children were about to die and they could save only two... who would those two be?

Answer was obvious. Even if they felt guilty, they would choose his younger siblings. Even if he thought about it a thousand times it was not possible for them to choose him. He could not even tell whether or not they would hesitate. They had children they wanted, he was just a defective product. That realization was the last straw that broke camel's back.

He had believed they loved him as much as his siblings. He believed in their unconditional love. That illusion was simply broken. If he did not exist at all, nothing would change. If he died today, his parents might cry a tear or two and move on, his siblings perhaps did not even know he existed so he did not know what they would do and no one from his school would care. His existence or non-existence could never make a small difference for anyone he had ever known...

He made a self-deprecating pose and a mocking smile. He threw himself into his bed inside the grey room. He wanted to cry until tears did not come out. But there was no tears in his eyes. Even if he felt like shit, no tears would come out. It was times like these that he missed his grandfather. His grandfather was the only person who honestly cared about him. But then again, who could tell if things would stay that way?

He got up and absentmindedly looked outside the window, a bird was taking flight. Flying, reaching the blue sky, racing with cloud, sun shining on it's feathers. He too lifted his hand and tried to reach for sky. He felt the chains. Chains that clanged and pulled him down.

He looked back at the knife. He could cut the chains, he could be free like a bird. Shedding his mortal, flesh and blood vessel. He felt trapped inside his body. He valued spirit more than flesh. In this world one diamond was worth more than life of someone. Some gold could buy one's soul. This world was lacking...

*****

Drake looked to the letter in front of him, a letter that had came from government. He had to do his duty - serving his country as a soldier - and was called upon to war. Drake was not even worried. If he went away and died no one would grieve for him, save his parents and it could not be said that they cared for him beyond a sense of responsibility and maybe a shred of love.

Besides even if he died, it was all the same to him. He would be one of the jobless who would spend his time searching for jobs and what not. His best prospect in life was being a third-rate something. He had lived as carefree as he could. When the carefree life ends he would commit suicide. Either way he sought death, so he had no problem with going to war. The life he would waste himself would at least have a meaning.

*****

Voices cry out. Sorrow, shame and pleasure. Drake's face was twisted with disgust, but what could he do? He was powerless to do anything. He went to war, imagining a war filled with blood and corpses, heroes and comrade-in-arms from both sides fighting for their country...

What he had found was a slaughter house. This war was simply unfair. It was like a knight fully armored in steel and a cavemen armed with stone doing battle. A knight could take a hundred of caveman and could still fight.

When they attacked the army quickly crumbled. It was like throwing a boulder to break an egg. He learned the true meaning of the word "Overkill". Then they established refugee camps for safety of civilians, to appease anti-war factions.

But there was no order here. No prisons and law enforcement were soldiers. So all they got was methods from ages ago. Good old beatings and executions. Punishment depended on mood and character of soldier, as well as the crime. Soldiers were judge, jury, executioner. Also these soldiers could only punish less than half of said crimes because of being understaffed to boot.

To say no one had taken advantage of their positions here would be a lie. For example there was someone who was taken advantage of inside. But since he was a lowly private what could he do? Some righteous fellows screamed for justice. They all bravely died in a fabricated raid on this camp.

He could kill that guy. But what was the use? Besides what could killing a corrupt man do? The one who took command after him is not necessarily better. It was a case of devil you know being better. At least he had kept his words to the women he received "favors" from. There were people who would not do that. Considering that he was not that bad. What would they call this... A lighter shade of black?

He hated this place. But he had to serve more time. Everyday he would take his frustration on a low-life thug. Beating him to half death and then shooting him. He also would kill women or children whenever he could. There were all sorts of people here. By all sorts he meant ALL sorts.

"Drake the Executioner" they called him. He had killed many people. Each time he killed someone he would feel that feeling that come to him again, when he was near death long ago. His heart would become peaceful like a still lake. It would not be a lie to say he craved that feeling. Maybe he was worse than people he punished...

*****

The night wind whispers, screams of those who are burning are almost lost in voice of hungry flames. Drake stood with a wine bottle in his hands. He then drank it slowly under the moon.

Looking at the burning camp, he smiled. He remembered refugees who were all too eager to come here and could not get out. Because they harvested men's organs, sold women as slaves, if they did not keep them to themselves and children often died of diseases.

It was funny how someone's organs were worth more than their lives. Their bodies were worth more than their life. They simply killed innocent, desperate people, if not made them suffer a living hell.

This... mass of filth should be purified by fire. This place should not have existed. It was an affront to him, an eyesore. As long as this place stood he would not be at peace. What was worse was the fact they would be remembered as heroes! This fact made him laugh.

But this place was just a small part of the world. there was a whole world out there with many things like this happening. Not in the public eye, but happening. He was just taking his frustration out of this place, but it was not to say this hell did not deserve to burn.

This was a funeral. His own and many others. What Drake he was, before the war was dead here. He ultimately found what he had sought. Although it was not the answer he wanted. The purpose of life was to enjoy life. To have fun and find satisfaction. Everything that was done was for fun and satisfaction. Be it compassion or cruelty.

All living beings are born selfish. When good deeds feels good, that person becomes good. But such good people do not do good deeds for other people. If other people's happiness becomes one's own then wouldn't it be correct to say that ultimately that action was selfish?

Act of taking a life is seen as immoral. But we all take lives. Is animals lives lesser than ours? They might not be as intelligent, but they feel fear and pain same as we do. Their lives are no lesser than ours. All living beings are like that. We kill them and eat them. We kill to prolong our own lives. This is one of the laws of nature.

The laws of nature cannot be ignored. Social food chains will always exist among humans, as well as animals who live in packs. There will always be weak and strong. What strong gains weak loses. All actions are done selfish. Serving one's self is the nature of all living beings. It is perfectly natural. One must take the path of forcing them to become good. After all he did not want to live in a place like this camp. But one man could not achieve much.

He killed people more and more, until he felt a surge of power one day. He had become faster, stronger, better... The more he killed the more stronger he grew and now he killed four million people. His very being was filled with power. But that was a mere side effect. Once in life soldiers here were high and mighty, ruling over refugees, now they burn in the same fire. Life is unfair. But death... death is equal.

He drank once more from the bottle with a serene expression. From now on he will do whatever he wants. From now on there is no consideration given for other people. He found this decision easy to make. This was what he had been from start. He never had been human. He tried to act like one. For all his life he looked from the outside and tried to enter inside. But even when he did, he only found out that he did not fit at all.

Even when he pitied them he pitied them from the place he watched. He never was among them. He never felt their pain. He simply did not like it. He truly did not care even if whole world burns. He had always been an outsider...

*****

Drake opened his eyes suddenly with deep breaths. He let his tense body relax. For him these memories were like a nightmare. He had long left them buried in the darkest reaches of his mind. Did the nostalgia from yesterday brought them back to life?

He got up and walked towards the window. Sun was rising and all of sky was dyed with purplish colors. He opened it and took the first breath of air or what was left of air, since half of it was smoke.

He thought back. Did he really moved on from his past? He was not sure. Perhaps he never could. The Drake of the past made the Drake of today. So he was not certain if he ever could leave those memories behind.

Whatever Drake had tried he found out he did not like it at all. When Drake ended his education, he had nothing at all to live for. Even now it was same. He did not care about his life or death. Was this truly living? If somebody asked he would answer no. Why did he live then? He was merely stubborn. His stubborn nature never changed.

He looked down upon the streets. Like little ants thousands of people were going everywhere. He never liked humans of these times. All of them were like machines. All witless and soulless, death would be a mercy. Yet they were more content with their lives.

If somebody asked Drake what he liked in life he would answer fiction, be it games, novels or something else. He found it so ridiculous. He had only found one thing in his life that he truly liked in this world and it had nothing to do with world itself. Wasn't that funny?

He sighed, brooding was useless. He should have a coffee and read something first. Then he would begin to game, taking all that frustration from the poor mobs. He smiled. He was making his coffee by hand. It tasted more natural this way.

He suddenly let go of his coffee and jumped back. A piercing light appeared and destroyed his chair as it went up in flames. He was annoyed, he was going to have breakfast here. If someone wanted death they should find it elsewhere!

He had not noticed them. He was just filled with a foreboding sense that he had to run. He indeed narrowly avoided death. So he felt he simply had to see this guy. They should learn results of pissing him off. Also he should vent a little of his stress on these people!

He jumped out of the window and from rooftops to rooftops, trying to reach his would be killers. He was impossibly fast for a human being.

"Drake!" said an elderly man in a surprised an alarmed manner, he swiftly dashed towards him. Drake simply threw a punch with normal power, not interested at all. Elderly man then tried to throw him using his power. Drake realized he underestimated him. But he had a counter for this.

"[Dragon Slayer] - [Drop Dragon Back to Sea]"

Drake simply borrowed man's power and momentum and used it against him by catching him with his arms and legs and put him in a lock. Elderly man tried to escape but Drake simply had been too fast. Now he could not move his limbs and two feet beneath his chin was driving him towards the street. He felt his life was forfeit. He would end up like a watermelon!

Drake let go of the man quickly and using elderly man's chin as a platform he jumped with all his power, while elderly man began to drop faster and a laser shot again, his slippers was on fire!

This meant that they had planned to stall him while snipers shot him again. This time laser came from the right. So either there were many shooters or sniper was extremely fast.

He felt very annoyed. That slipper was a comfortable one! But he hated fighting these kinds of people. Fighting them would mean that they would have ample time to shoot him. Such weapons also was likely to have very long charging time and snipers should not be a lot weaker than this elderly man. Because these kinds of weapons were so powerful that other people could break from recoil.

No matter how strong he was, he could not be stronger than that laser. Even experts would fear a gun. If they could not escape, it was likely that they would die. His flesh was strong against normal guns. Normal bullets would be unable to pierce him or deal serious wounds. But laser? His skin might as well be paper. He could use his mana, but he could not recover it fast. using it would mean he would need to rest at least a day. Earth was simply lacking in mana.

He now tried to turn around and run away using cover from skyscrapers. It was annoying to fight these kinds of people. It was like trying to slap an annoying fly.

*BANG!* Drake was surprised. So they even deployed a formation! That was the real attack! Everything up until now was to bait him! They simply did not anticipate he was this fast and the old guy had tried to stalled him!

"Drake today is the day you die! I will have revenge for my family! I will make you regret the day you killed my parents!" said a man with a suit. His blonde hair was cut short and his blue eyes were staring at him with great intensity. If eyes could kill, Drake would be dead. He was outside the formation and he had come to taunt him.

Formation was a strong one and it restrained space. Even he would have trouble breaking through. Drake was shocked to discover there were two dozens of true masters. He was in a pinch. True masters could not be said to be life threatening, but he would be very weakened afterwards and would be at mercy of snipers. But these experts are all sure to die.

These kinds of experts could not be hired with money. For them to come at him they felt whatever that this suited man offered was worth their lives. What would make all these lofty experts who could live carefree lives come here to find death? He did not know. Even he did not have such a thing. Well, mainly because he did not need it...

"Hmph! You think you can kill me? I never even used my full power! If I use it you all are certain to die! You are all courting death! Even if you kill me, I am certain I can take you all down with me. Do you not value your life? If you withdraw however, I will not pursue. You are not worth my time!" said Drake and sneered.

He did not use much of his mana back then and could take one of them down. If he uses his mana he was certain that he could take all of them down, but he would at least be injured and would have to use most of his mana. He would need to recuperate! Snipers would not stand by idly then.

All of the true masters were angry! This man dared to say he could kill all two dozen of them! They knew Drake was someone who was strong, but they were 24 true masters, they reigned at the height of underworld! Wasn't he simply looking down on them too much? He even dared to say that they were not even worth his time!

They ganged up on their target and were true masters! If they turned tail and ran away now, wouldn't their reputation remain tarnished forever? They would be ridiculed to end of their lives. Each of them had pride of a king. They reigned at height of underworld! Even if they were all beaten they simply could not believe that he could kill all of them. This Drake should be bluffing!

They all used their strongest attacks and charged to Drake. Drake seeing this simply felt like laughing. What kind of situation was this? These experts were prideful and arrogant. So, there was no exit. Even if they knew he was a lot stronger than them they would not stop!

If he tried to bribe them or tried to talk them down they would feel he was afraid, so he acted overbearing to deter them. But it seems they would not be deterred by anything other than death! Then he would take them all with him!

"[Divine Dragon Claw] - [Divine Dragon's Nine-fold Strike!]"

This attack would use most of his mana. But would no doubt render smash everything here to paste! Image of nine dragons appeared and each of them charged at one expert after another.

Drake would never imagine that he would actually die today in such an absurd manner. What beef blonde man had with him he did not know. If you asked him when was the last time he had killed someone he would say Tuesday! If he killed someone however, he would only kill for three reasons: First, they were just scum and therefore deserved death! Second, for them death was better than life! Third, he was forced to kill them!

Nonetheless, he had a great time. He had no fear or regrets. He had a spectacular and grand life. In this world, is there any other who could live as he did? He lived a free, delightful life, unrestrained by anyone or anything! If there was any regret he really would regret being unable to see the end of many novels he read and could not play MAO 2 until he grew sick of it...

Drake who was expecting to fall in a severely weakened state, suddenly felt he was overflowing with power instead! It was as if a dam had been broken and mana endlessly surged inside him! Did he perhaps broke through a limit?

But to his panic he noticed it did not stop! It was like water came endlessly like a surging ocean and he only had place enough for a lake! But the most terrifying fact was that it did not flow out. It forced itself to everywhere in his very soul.

He looked at himself. His skin began to crack and from cracks some eerie and black liquid was flowing out. From every opening in his body that liquid flew out. His body could not take it. His vision was going dark. He would take the blonde guy with him!

He rushed to blonde guy who could not run away. Then he pulled out something shiny with all kinds of colors and made a begging gesture. Drake could not tell anything beyond that, his vision was going dark! He could not hear at all. Soon he would not see.

He slit the man's throat and ate the bright object which he thought to be the thing this man had offered all those experts. It was broken to pieces in his mouth before swallowing so nobody can get the reward for killing him. Then he fell on the man's body, no longer having the strength enough to stand.

As he lied dying, he thought back to all those years ago, to the moment of his death. It was still the same. He was still all alone in the world. In the end he lived without regrets. But there was only one regret. He never could find someone he could connect to. In the end all he had was himself. But he always had wished for more. A true companion. Either a family member, a friend or a lover with whom he could connect. Just one person...

He bitterly smiled. He could see himself in the end, as his life flashed in his eyes: The Drake who watched children run and play, the Drake who looked to books for companions, the Drake who could not connect with anyone, the Drake who always watched from a distance, the Drake who even forgot his own dearest wish, Drake who always felt like an outsider. If there were second chances...

*****

A very deep breath and scream like sound was released as Drake woke up. A dream? Then suddenly his head felt like it was being pierced by screwdrivers. His thoughts were not clear. His eyes could not really see well.

The gate opened? Was there a woman? She was saying something, but he could not bother listening. He really could not make finer details because to him everything appeared as a blur. There was a person but he could not see her face. He asked:"Who... are you? Where... am I?". His head was going to explode. He barely could bring the questions out of his mouth.

It was like someone was mixing contents of his head endlessly. His blurry vision began to turn worse and he passed out once more...