---
He kept counting in his head with the empty bell the system had left in place when it stopped line by line. He hit ten bodies. He hit twenty. The warmth inside him thickened, not like wine but like clean broth. His arms felt stronger. His legs felt like they had one more slope in them without pain. His sight stayed clear.
He lifted a plate on one chest and bit through the thick place over the heart. He swallowed the last of the small life. The skin went gray in a breath. He wiped his mouth on his wrist and moved to the next. He did not bother to perform the ritual like a predator. This was his ritual.
Azhara shifted the leash foot to foot and watched him finish a third in this row. She swallowed and laughed once under her breath and shook her head at herself. "Still handsome as ever," she said softly, like a joke only she could hear. She kept her eyes on him. She did not blink much.
