Nox didn’t say a word. He waited, counting the seconds in his mind. Sometimes you counted bullets and sometimes you counted time. Either one could kill you.

Dynamite is loyal to the one who lights the fuse.

That was the trouble with explaining with words. If you explained with gunpowder, people listened.

They were shooting far, and their accuracy suffered, but Nox didn't exactly have a lot of places to dance through the bullets. They came in number, like rain. You couldn't afford to get wet.

The thought had crossed my mind, that in order to save this world from Hell, I might have to become the Devil.

There weren’t many amulet smugglers around these parts. They mostly served Regime territory down south, where the so-called “demons” reigned. If you didn’t want a monster for a child, you’d pay a pretty penny for one of those necklaces. And if you were caught smuggling them, well, you’d pay with your pretty head.

His father used to tell him that you can't eat principles. And no, you couldn't. But you could live by them.

She looked at her right hand, where the index finger was cut to a stump. Some said she lost it in an accident, when she was playing soldier with a live grenade. Others said she was taught a lesson by the law, and they took her trigger finger to make her keep on learning. Those were the lessons the Coilhunter liked. Why, he was quite the teacher himself.

You hang your heroes. That way they’ll never disappoint you.' It also brought to mind his own retort: 'But what about your enemies? What about thevillains? What do we do with those?