Page 13 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

Yes, I might have asmallauthority problem, but I make up for it in other ways—namely killing twice more demons than everyone else. That is my plan for this mission too.

If I can do something extraordinary, maybe kill a high-level demon, or even a Son of Tenebreis, Commander Azerius will praise me for my abilities. And when he’ll hear I am going to quit, he’s going to insist I don’t, that I’m a valuable asset of the army and for the whole of Aperion.

My parents and Theron will not be able to say a thing against Commander Azerius. Heisthe ultimate authority, after all.

I smile to myself.

Yes! I just need to distinguish myself in this mission and I might escape my fate.

A few years back, a deity was given a medal and special treatment for killing the most demons in a mission. Even if I don’t kill a Son of Tenebreis—though I wouldloveto, just to say I did it and watch Theron’s face mottle with jealousy—as long as I killthe mostdemons, I might get a distinction.

My plan is made, and an hour later, I’m standing in line with the other soldiers as we go one by one through the portal.

Anthropa, here I come!

Maybe I shouldn’t be this happy about going to war, but how can I not when killing demons is so much fun?

THREE

LONDON, ANTHROPA, YEAR 1943

The cityof London is in disarray. Buildings are collapsed. Some are totaled to the ground while others sway with every little breeze, ready to tip over. The air is filled with the smell of powdered concrete, rubber, and death.

Yet despite the destruction all around, people continue on with their lives.

The night sky is clouded, the moon barely visible.

I’ve been in Anthropa for a few months now, and I don’t think I’ve seen a clear sky in all that time. It’s always foggy, dark…foreboding.

When I decided to join Kai’s regiment, I suppose I hadn’t thought of everything this mission would involve.

It is war, yes. I’m killing demons, yes.

But it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the casualties all around me.

Daily, I see people die. Horrible, asinine deaths. And for what? What is the point of this war? Why do so many innocents have to die?

I take a bite out of my sugar-glazed donut as I walk down a dimly lit street. It’s getting close to the blackout time, and peopleare frantically running up and down the street, trying to get to their homes in time before darkness sets in.

There are, of course, some unsavory figures who wait for the darkness to come to commit nefarious acts. Unfortunately, I have seen plenty of those, too.

Like any person capable of empathy, my first instinct is to help. But I am bound by my own laws, and I cannot intervene even in a small incident since it might ricochet and have unintended consequences on people’s lives.

Fate. Such a tricky thing. Even something so little as a walk on a bustling street can be a pivotal moment in someone’s life.

I take another bite of my donut.

Food, too, is scarce around here. People are living on rations, and the portions are not only small but also have a questionable taste.

I went through so much trouble to procure this one donut from the so-called Yanks. They have a base not too far from London and have brought with them some of their products—a fact that makes the British very jealous.

I would be, too, if those Yanks had sugary goodness while the British have…potatoes.

Not that potatoes are bad. In fact, they, like any other vegetable, have their purpose. But when everything becomes about potatoes… Well, then I can see why people would tire of them.

There are, of course, other available items, but they are in short supply. Meat, in particular, is scarce to come by, unless you have the money to purchase it from the black market.

I suppose things are better in the countryside where people grow their own produce, but how many people can boast about that?

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