Syal

More and more obscure times fall on a place known as district 42. Poverty can be seen everywhere you go. Misery resides in the lives of every citizen. A thin line is about to be crossed. The final battle will soon begin. On the one hand, those who value tradition, order; On the other, those who cry out for freedom. Everyone knows, although no one claims ... but the district flag will soon burn. However, in an event perhaps headed by fate, a soldier wakes up. A man transported from another world, plunging into all the Chaos spread over that place. Perhaps, the only man capable of extinguishing the flames of that cruel war.

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District 42

The Punctual Aesir had his hand closed into a fist, frowning slightly. He didn't like to remember the past too often, but he knew that everything that happened before was necessary to form the person he was nowadays.

It was painful to remember his weaknesses and his mistakes. All the way until he became a Ridire was difficult and full of deaths and sorrows. He never could feel proud of himself for finally becoming one, not even when he turned into an Aesir.

His path was predestined to be made of melancholy. Since he left his house to become a city guard, he was marked with some kind of curse, in which he began to see his childhood shatter in front of him. It was an exchange for all the power and prestige that he got.

He stared at Loki, who was still standing on the roof, looking at him. His memories passed in a flash. It was too fast to make him lose too much time there.

"You said that I am late now, right?" He asked, suddenly.

Not late anymore