Chapter 5

VERNERO

Once again, I was 19 years old. I found myself in the glacial, bitter lands of Japan, one of the bases where I was currently under my “remodeling” phase. According to my father, Lorik Cattanio, I was a weakling. I was not even fit to be his son thus needed to be reconstructed, to be remodeled into something perfect, something he would take pride in. So he took me here, to one of the Turantello bases.

The mountains and the thick heavy forest created a false scenery to the viewers, feigning the beauty of the lands of green, hiding the cruelty of what was at the feet of the mountains and deep within the thick forests.

The whir of the gelid frosty air of winter morning sang along, adding to the fake beauty of white coated lands and swallowing the bitter cries of the distressed, creating a nice but harsh tune that bit the earlobes painfully; also giving a crisp, but cold air to breath. The land under the 4 meter thick snow was inconsolably hard ag