Rhyan had wanted to do it him-self, the less that knew the better it would be. He looked at his hands, his hands which where bearing the mark of the Defias, a cog and a sword. They were markings of something he hated and he wanted them to go away. It was burn-marks, made a few years ago, he had not wanted to have them made but he had had no choice, now he wanted them to go away. He had taken ice-cold water to make it one at the time go numb, he would need the other one to work with. The hand trembled that held the knife and even although he tried as hard as he could Rhyan could not get himself to do it, to slice of the skin. He decided to do it the other way, it would be a lot more pain but it would go faster and all he had to do was to hold his fists tight together. The hot metal had a rough surface and was almost red glowing. He put his hands again into the ice-cold water to have them go as numb as possible, and then he put the leather clad wooden stick between his jaws and places his knotted fists on the plate.

He wanted to scream out the pain, but his mind was so focused, so determent that he was able to hold the hands there for three seconds with every muscle-fibre in his body tensed to maximum before falling backwards, he spat out the stick and breathed heavy. His body was shaking and he had no feeling, he had felt pain before but nothing like this, but then he focused his mind again and put his hands down the ice-cold water-bowl and so he remained a long while. He then took up a little jar of paste that his fight-master always had used for stuff like this, took a good chunk of it smearing it carefully on his hands.

The pain had been indescribable, and so had the relief of it being over. He looked at his now bandaged hands. It had taken a lot of preparations doing this, gathering the food needed and finding a place he could hide out for a long while. Ever part of the plan was well-planned into the slightest detail. He had watched the area for a couple of weeks and it had been a very lonely placed. Only a few animals would visit now and then. Even so he had made good preparations to dig him-self a good hideout hole where he would wait.

It would be about a week in the bunker which he had built for him self. Even if the pain was horrible he still would go on with his training-program every day. First the meditation, then the body work-out and finally the weapons-training in his very well worked-out training program going through all his body and mind. He would have no excuse for being lazy and not training even if he not was in combat.

As the week was over he could finally get rid of the bandages and look at his hands. The tattooes that once had been the cog and the sword, was now erased by the scars of the burnmarks that still was there. He felt pleased by the thought that he was no longer in any way tied to the Defias Brotherhood. The hatered for that organisation was strong and solid. Rhyan felt inside that he was free, independent and felt strong.