"You are one lucky kid. That's twenty pounds of bread and dried meat. It's all yours."
Staring wide-eyed at the crate of items in front of him, Nero was a bit speechless.
He turned to the man standing beside him.
He wore the signature armor of the Crimson Crucible, only he didn't have his helmet on.
Dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a strange, goofy smile on his face as he stared down at Nero.
Nero pursed his lips,
"This... Isn't this a lot for just me? Don't you all need these rations?"
The Templar guffawed, "Food is important. But we require more than that for our sustenance."
Nero frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
However, he couldn't dwell on it for too long as the Templar's large hand clamped down on his shoulder,
"To think the commander already has his eyes on you. You must be a young talent. What are you done all the way out here on Hell's doorsteps?"
Nero grimaced, but said nothing.
The Templar chuckled awkwardly. Then paused,
