Having pushed into the very center of yet another street riot, I realize how cramped and loud it is here. People around me shouting, demanding for “returning the justice and overthrowing the pantheon”. While their voices are mixing into a whole chorus of hatred, I alone stand there silent and stunned. It was only a matter of time before the rebellion was surpassed, but if I were exposed as a recruit punishing heretics, the crowd would kill me even earlier. All I had to do was remember the faces of those whom I would have to track down and eliminate later just to fulfill my task. Task, given me by the insatiable and arrogant gods. Every time seeing an old man or a child in a crowd, my heart sank. Every moment the memory of the closest of mine, eliminated by my own hands made me rethink it over and over again. What if those who watching us from above are only satisfied with our own stupidity and thoughtless, spineless worship?