Servius "To preserve" Felix

All your life you’ve been able to take a beating and keep fighting. Your flesh bears the scars of a thousand angry encounters, from the time you were a boy to the last years with the legion. Some of the wounds haven’t healed as well as the others. You took an arrow to the leg in some Jupiter-forsaken place, and a sling stone hit the side of your head so hard you still can’t hear out of your left ear.
But Pluto be damned—you’re not ready for Tartarus yet. You don’t fight for the Legion or the Emperor or even Rome—you fight because that’s all you’ve ever done. And while your view of mortal life is less than rosy, you’ll be damned if your next foe will be the one to end your miserable existence—or the next one, or the next.