I came to this world without a mother or a father to raise me, or anyone to teach me how to hold my sword. I learned my way into the land by exploring and making mistakes. I am nobody's property, I go where my heart desires.

I sit on a log outside the alchemy store waiting for my clan mates, my brothers and sisters in arms. I sharpen my sword and look up to the leaves up on the trees. Years have passed since my first footprints sunk on the sand in the wide spread desert. My skin is not young and clear anymore, the battles have now drawn roads and symbols from where I once bled. Yet, there are no traces from my previous lives before my current, no holes from the bullets that entered my body and came out burning pieces of skin. Those times are long gone now, but will stay with me forever.

"Are you ready?" the clan master asks me. "Lead the way" I say while I stand. Hopefully this won't be a fatal battle for me, but I will rather die trying that running away.

The things on my backpack are only what I need, everything else I give to people that shows me good intentions. "But this is too expensive!!" they tell me sometimes when I give them items. I can't put a price on a loyal friend, knowing how rare they are, but I have never lost hope of finding one in the most unusual place.

The most valuable item in my inventory is not rare or numerous, and much less acquired by slaying a fearless monster. The most valuable thing I carry with me is my honor and my word. These days I don't believe anything strangers tell me, nor I promise things I cannot possibly achieve. I express my gratefulness with gifts and my friendship, but friendship as well has a different meaning for everyone I meet. My friendship is my offer of being there for support, on battle and off. I am there to listen, to discuss, or just to ask a question.

I follow the clan leader not because of fear, or because of I need to be a part of something. I do it because I respect his figure and he can teach me what I don't know without treating me as an ignorant. I despise of warriors with self made titles and obsessions of grandeur. Let the people give you a title if you had earn it, otherwise let the real warriors through.

I don't take kindly of abusive merchants, I prefer making the items myself than feeding their greed. I don't make war with my eyes blind, I don't bring pain to the ones that don't approve of the war.

From the various armies that I had seen, few have lived up to their name or even their own expectations. They fight without reasons and without a cause. Picking their members from the pool of the powerful rather than the lake of the knowledgeable. They cheer and boast of their achievements, we couldn't care less about their names.

Sitting next to the pond after a long battle, I gaze at the sunset waiting for the time to close my eyes. My clan members look down on me for spending time where the newborn warriors roam. Nevertheless, I enjoy being around them as well as in their company. The land belongs to the strong, but the heart of the world belongs to the new. They pour fresh blood into my veins, showing me all the extraordinary things my world has to offer them. They open my eyes and show me all the things that were always there and I now discover them. I enjoy listening to the stories from faraway lands and extinct worlds. How much they struggled trough their journeys, and how much things they discovered. Suddenly the scars on my face and the wear and tear of my armor all make sense, this is what I fight for, this is why I keep going. This is why I struggle to bring justice to the land, to let the new feel that they are not alone here. For them I am Warrior.