(Marcus's Perspective)
I pulled the dagger from Jevan's chest, watching as the blood spread across the dark floor, tracing winding lines like ominous veins. I remained standing over the body, staring at it without fully grasping what I had just done. I was supposed to feel something, anything. But all that was there was emptiness.
I inhaled slowly, trying to make sense of the heavy void. Was it regret? Or just numbness? This wasn't the ending I had imagined. I thought I'd feel relief, victory, something that would give all of this meaning. But all I found was nothing.
I reached out to wipe the blood from my fingers, but it clung stubbornly, refusing to let go. From the corner of the room, out of the shadows, a strange entity stirred. It had no clear features, just a mass of shifting darkness. It stopped beside the body, observed it for a moment, then said in a cold voice:
"Looks like you've completed the mission."
I didn't answer. I sheathed the dagger and turned toward the door. My steps were steady, but inside I felt like the wreckage of a ship tossed in a storm. I was searching for something. An answer? Or maybe just a reason for what I'd done. But there was nothing.
His voice came again, cutting through my thoughts:
"Don't tell me you feel sad."
I kept walking. I didn't look back. But his words stuck to my mind, refusing to leave. I heard his footsteps approaching. Then, in a low but sharp voice, he said:
"Are you sad because you mutilated your old friend's body? Because you shattered the trust that once existed between you?"
I stopped. My fingers curled inside the glove. I nearly responded, but the words caught in my throat.
I muttered:
"It had to be done..."
But even as I said it, a lump formed in my throat. I kept walking without turning. There was no point in talking. I had nothing to say, and I didn't want to waste time on meaningless justifications.
I convinced myself that his words meant nothing. Or at least I tried to.
"Well, it doesn't matter. Either way, I have work to do."
It sounded like he was speaking to himself more than to me. He kept staring at the body intently, then said:
"I still can't believe he managed to escape us for three whole years. The fact that he survived this long is honestly impressive."
Just before I disappeared behind the door, I noticed something strange from the corner of my eye. Dark limbs extended from the shadows around him, moving fluidly toward the body.
I stopped at the threshold, and then he murmured with a hint of confusion:
"There's no information about the System Pieces."
"No information?"
"Nothing. Your old friend's memory is completely empty regarding the Pieces of the System. Are you sure you got the right person?"
His words struck me like lightning. Could I have been wrong? But no. That's impossible. I'm sure that was Jevan. Same sarcastic tone, same unwavering confidence no matter the situation. Even in his final moments.
The shadow interrupted my thoughts, saying:
"Seems your old friend was smarter than you thought. He wiped his own memories completely before we caught him."
I repeated:
"Wiped his memories?"
I laughed bitterly, but the sound that came out was hollow, broken, as if I was mocking myself more than the situation. Then I walked away.
"Was that your final safeguard?"
But before I could fully leave, his voice came again, this time urgent:
"Aren't you going to cover up the crime? If the Bureau finds the body, the consequences will be severe."
I stopped, then turned toward him and stared at the shadowy limbs still digging through the corpse for a moment before replying:
"You'll take care of the evidence. I have a report to send to the higherups."
I didn't wait for a reply. I kept walking. I had succeeded or so I thought. Another part of the Madness Authority was now under my control. This was supposed to be a crushing victory, a major step toward my goal.
But there was no sense of triumph. No joy. No rush. Only emptiness. Something inside me broke the moment I chose this path. Or maybe it broke the moment I accepted this Authority.
Still, there was another feeling, faint but painful. Sorrow. I didn't fully understand it, nor did I want to. But it was there, whispering that Jevan wasn't just an obstacle in my way.
He was once a friend. I kept walking, my mind drowning in questions. Was it worth it? But I quickly tore those thoughts out at the root. There was no room for weakness now.
I chose this path. From the moment I sought revenge, I knew the price would be steep. I would have my revenge no matter the cost.
Even if it meant giving up my humanity.
Even if I had to bury every last emotion.
This is the path I chose. No turning back. No regret.
And yet, amid the darkness, deep within the silence surrounding me, a small voice whispered from inside my head, from the depths of the madness I carried:
"Is it really worth all this sacrifice?"
***
After Marcus left, silence settled over the place. In the center of the room stood a mysterious figure, cloaked in shadow. Its features were unclear. Its eyes wandered over the torn corpse.
The lifeless body lay motionless, its stiff expression holding a faint smile.
The shadowy figure didn't move at first. It stood still, as if absorbing the scene, or perhaps savoring it.
Then, with calculated slowness, it raised its hand to reveal a small lighter between its thin fingers. When ignited, vibrant flames burst to life, dancing in the air.
With a slight motion, it tossed a small flame onto the body, and soon the fire began devouring the room and the corpse together.
The heat rose, and the orange glow flared around the figure, but it didn't flinch, didn't retreat. It simply watched the fire perform its task with the precision of a surgeon devoid of emotion.
For a moment, it seemed lost in thought. Perhaps about the dead man, or Marcus, or what would come next. But it didn't give those thoughts more than a fleeting second.
It turned quietly, and at the door, cast one final glance at the room. In its eyes, if they could be seen, there was no regret and no pity. Only certainty in the inevitability of what happened. Then it merged with the shadows, leaving behind a room being consumed by fire.
***
I opened my eyes. Light was not the first thing to greet me, but rather the glow of flames consuming everything in their path and the scent of smoke mixed with blood. But in the midst of all this chaos, something made no sense I was unharmed.
I looked down at my body, cautiously inspecting it. For some reason, it was in good condition. No wounds. No scratches. Even my clothes were clean, as if I hadn't just been tortured moments ago.
"How? How am I here, alive after everything that happened?"
Questions raced through my head. Had I really died? Were those my final moments? And if so, why am I here now?
I scanned the room. The heat was rising, and smoke was filling the space. I clenched my fists and stepped back. There was no time to drown in thoughts. The fire was closing in from every direction.
Was this intentional? Was he trying to erase all the evidence by burning everything?
Staying here wasn't an option. I turned around, searching for any exit. The flames were crawling unnaturally along the floors and walls.
I clenched my jaw and dug my nails into my palms. Whatever this was miracle or curse I had no choice but to survive.
I had no time to think about the nature of the fire or its strange behavior. The priority was clear: find a way out before the flames consumed me.
My eyes scanned the room quickly, looking for any exit, any chance of survival. But all paths were blocked. The fire wrapped around them like a hungry beast tightening its grip on its prey.
Then I saw it a small window on the far wall, barely visible through the thick smoke. It looked like the only lifeline in this burning hell. It wasn't big, but maybe enough for me to squeeze through. The problem? I had no idea what awaited me on the other side.
I hesitated for a moment. The fire was closing in from behind. There was no time to think or hesitate. Maybe the window led to a cliff, or another danger just as deadly as the fire. But staying here meant certain death.
I tightened my grip, then charged toward the window with all my strength. I smashed through it. Glass shattered everywhere, shards digging into my hands, causing sharp pain and immediate bleeding.
But the pain didn't matter. Escape was all that mattered. I jumped and felt the cold air hit my face, then crashed into the ground hard.
The air was knocked out of my lungs, as if I had been crushed under a giant rock. For a moment, I couldn't move. Every part of my body screamed in protest, my ribs felt shattered.
But I was alive. Despite the pain, I began crawling away from the burning building. The flames roared skyward like a fire beast devouring everything in its path.
I lifted my head with difficulty, searching for any sign of life. But what I saw was a dead world.
The surrounding buildings looked like something out of a nightmare. Cracked walls, shattered windows. Some had already collapsed, others were on the verge. The silence was absolute no sound except the moan of the wind and the distant crackling of flames.
This place was a reflection of my state. Ruined, yet still standing. Despite the pain, the bleeding, the exhaustion threatening to collapse me at any moment, a voice inside me screamed:
"I survived."
After minutes of exhausting crawling, I spotted an abandoned building, standing like a forgotten skeleton. I entered, careful to stay in the shadows, to hide. Now, I had to catch my breath and think about the next step.
I sat in one of the dark corners, my body heavy with fatigue, my eyes fixed on the burning building I had just escaped.
I knew the fire would attract attention. Maybe rescue teams would arrive. Or the police. Or...
But what happened next defied all logic I had ever known. As I watched, something impossible happened. Suddenly, the fire went out.
Not like usual no fading smoke, no dying sparks. It just vanished, all at once. No trace of the fire. No ashes. No rising smoke. Just a silent building, as if it had never been burning moments ago.
My body froze in place. The scene looked like magic. Or a hallucination.
"What was that?"
I had no answer. Nothing about this day made sense. Everything felt like part of a long nightmare.