The last warlord

A God forgotten

The rain hammered down on the city, pooling in the cracks of the worn asphalt and cascading off the edges of a dimly lit overpass. Adrian Kane shivered as he tightened his threadbare coat around himself, sitting on a cold concrete slab beneath the bridge. The hum of passing cars overhead was his only company.Once, he had glimpses of grandeur—fleeting images of mighty armies kneeling at his feet, cities ablaze at his command, and treasures piled high in his honor. Now, those images were no more than fragments of dreams, slipping through his fingers every time he tried to recall them.Adrian wasn’t just poor. He was utterly forgotten.His stomach growled, the ache familiar and unrelenting. The ten bucks he’d earned earlier hauling crates in the market had gone to a sandwich that barely lasted him an hour. He glanced at the tin can beside him, containing a few coins tossed by passing strangers. He hated relying on their pity, but he had no choice.“What happened to me?” Adrian whispered