It had been many years since he'd been home. Since he'd sat down with his brother in the evenings.

But yet he walked.

So long ago was the past. So much pain it held.

And so he walked, and walked, and walked into the sunset.

He was a farmer at heart. He had loved his crops, more than he loved his brother, more than he loved his god. He loved his wheat, and his barley, and his orchard, they were all he cared for. Not anymore.

His brother was dead, and so were his crops, everything near and dear to him, gone in the blink of the eyes.

Now he roamed the paths of the world searching for a new home, or companions to aid him in his new calling, he was not sure.

He slowly became a living legend, a passing rumor. Of a man who survived a god's wrath. And now he was going to kill that god.

He continued to walk. Past the ravaged crops, past the wood turned ash and charcoal.

Through the debris, he spotted something he hasn't seen for a long time. An iron sickle.

The very same sickle that his brother made for him when he started his farming journey. He hesitated for just a moment before bending down and picking it up.

Like all the debris around him, it was also slightly burnt. However, it was not ruined. With a little touch up, he can weild it once more.

His thumb brushed over the handmade engraving on it. "A+D" His and his brothers initials. He can still fondly remember the day he brother gifted it to him. A smile painted his face. It only hurt more that he would never hear his brothers words again. His laugh. His presence.

He pointed the sickle to the sky, to the Sun.

"Wait for me brother, we will meet again soon."

He left the farm that was still full of embers. He walked with purpose, with determination. Whether this path was one of justice or vengeance, he no longer cared.

He was going to rip God down from the pedestal they call the Heveans.