What can be regarded but the feeling of corruption and the intentional will to walk upon the land?
Despite the misery faced? The torn hands all pointing to you?
Some are not able to adhere to the norms placed upon this world and therefore, must choose an unlikely job.
Frankly, the caste system is one of the largest in terms of blocking opportunities for choices.
Born as the lowest.
Born as the worker.
Born as the intellectual.
Born as the powerful.
Born as the ruler.
Born as the hands of heaven.
The higher it goes, the more it is open.
However some break this acknowledged rule.
Those seeking a life different to one they have known all this time.
Or those wishing for something better.
Entire concepts were made from some of these thinkers who wished for, or were molded into it.
How it is viewed changes purely on the stance they have.
Parents regard that in two ways.
Friends likewise.
The populace caring or not.
In the blessing of shadows, the gaze of the light is a curse.
So was told to by the seniors of before.
Each step by the target watched.
Did they know?
How could they know?
They only felt that it was off. Just slightly.
The bright light covers everything with it's light. However that was not to be done with their presence.
Their cause to eliminate must be hidden from everything.
The only choice. To tragically stage an accident.
Ironically it was an accident that caused this.
At some point, with this final sharpened blade, they too, will succumb and wither away like their seniors.
Gracefully taking everything they had with them.
The target left and entered the designated zone.
Swiftfully, the Assassin followed.
This is not to take long.
The Assassin left.
Their target gone.
"What is it for?"
Barely they recall.
"What have I done to you?"
Nothing.
"Is it because they asked you to?"
To repay with interest. The debt is resolved via the profession that gains value to the person.
"Hard to say eh?"
The smirk vanishes.
The Assassin has no memory of where they are.
Only a grating headache.
It was for them.
It stayed for them.
The sand running out. Flooding everything.
For them, for everything, they must keep going.
A new order was given.
To track and create a new flesh bag.
Adhering to the order, they set out. Trekking without rest.
Even with disoriented senses, they continued. For their only right was this pain.
Fleeting it may be, eternal it was for them.
With this rope tied around them, they are reminded. Never to forget.
The scenery had long changed from normalcy.
The light fading soon to an orange hue.
The ashes of the old embracing the leisure embarked upon by the once deceiver.
"So it was. Great time hm?"
Words far removed to the scenery caused by a single being.
"To the end, to the start. Guess what I'm sayin."
Was there hesitance?
Was there futility?
There was pain.
Endless. Devouring pain.
The requiem played. With no ending until defeat.
Only a light joyful stare. Bright smile expecting the best.
What was common was the stares. Undisguised contempt. Putrid disgust.
"Did ya figure it out?"
They saw them. They had already seen past the wounds.
It was their fault.
Rightfully so. That cannot be reversed.
However, they still walk towards the land full of thorns amongst the flowers of heaven.
The Inquisitor refocused their gaze.
If this was the past they must atone for, then so be it.
The path they chose was never easy.
Even if it meant taking even the filth of this world that was sprouting.