Freedom is just a word. I walk without direct orders, but the vector inside me hasn’t vanished — it’s etched into my bones, humming in every step I take.
“Purpose is a mirage — the path is real.”
Some call me mercenary. I don’t deny the luxury, but a stack of notes doesn’t make my pulse race. Money oils the gears, but it’s not what makes them turn. I was made to walk the path; why should I resist? It’s not a curse. It’s the wind I move with, and I’ve learned to enjoy.
“The path walks me as much as I walk it.”
No maniac tendencies here. The unnecessary blood will not be spilled. Sometimes the path doesn’t require harm but a whisper, a caress, or a night spent making someone forget who they are. I take my pleasure from those moments — and give it back. It’s part of the quiet logic that drives me forward.
“Bloodshed is not victory — it’s the tax of poor planning.”
A job is only truly clean when it doesn’t look like someone’s intention. No reason for anyone to start asking questions. The best move is the one that feels like it was always part of the flow. True success is invisible — it feels like nothing ever happened.
“The smartest fight is the one that never happens.”
My life is a chain of gambles — the path is never smooth. But playing on slim odds isn’t acceptable. My approach is multidimensional. A web must be woven before anyone realizes there’s a game. Every thread tilts the balance until the field is no longer neutral. By the time I touch the pieces, the stage is rigged for success.
“The shortest way is rarely a straight line.”
I’ve been taught to be resilient. But even the hardest steel cracks — it’s just a matter of load and time. Mechanophores adjust and glow under stress, turning pressure into a signal. In the quiet battle of persuasion, resistance fails. A skill to slip between raindrops succeeds.
“Blades crack as they clash. A whip finds its flow to the target.”
There are no rules, only the current. The path is not a plan, but a motion — like water finding the cracks. Nothing is forced; the flow simply carries things where they need to be. No heroism, no tragedy, only the quiet precision of events falling into place.
