He'd found a stranger dying in the street after the first collapse. The sky had cracked open overhead, the air screaming, and Cain had dragged the man under cover. Put pressure on the wounds. Begged him to hold on.
The man died minutes later.
Cain dropped his hand. "Why are you showing me this?"
The monolith didn't respond.
The image shifted again—fast, seamless. A new scene. Cain fighting off a creature in a burning street. Cain tearing through debris to pull out a trapped child. Cain smashing a window to rescue someone screaming from inside.
Cain running into danger again and again while everyone else fled.
He didn't want to watch this.
He didn't want to see the truth the monolith was carving in front of him.
"You think this means something?" Cain whispered. "You think this makes me some hero? I didn't have a choice."
The monolith flickered—once—then settled on another image.
Cain, alone, standing in a room full of bodies.
Bodies he hadn't been able to save.
