tomorrow may not come.
#8
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indent Materialism belonged to capitalist and existentialists. Gabriel was neither. He did not concern himself with such trivial thoughts, believing that this life was not the true end. When he died, his soul would leave this shell and go to a better place. That was one reason that he had never feared death—he had nothing to loose. “Larger then you think,” he said quietly, gaze returning to the sea. “There’s another ocean if you walk far enough west.” Gabriel knew; he had seen it, staggering out of his madness, collapsing into the water as a city burnt behind him.
indent “We’re still Inferni. We are still feared and hated.” As strange as it seemed to think, Gabriel was glad for that. Above all, they had their mask—and their weapons. Two wicked daggers and one righteous sword. In time, that amount would grow. Even if he did not fully see it yet, if he did not accept it yet, a third madman would join his army of the damned.






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