[Marcus's Perspective]
I pulled the dagger from Jevan's chest, watching the blood spill across the dark floor, tracing crooked lines like ill fated veins. I remained standing over the body, staring at it without fully grasping what I had done. I should have felt something. Anything. But there was nothing except emptiness.
I drew in a slow breath, trying to examine that void inside me. Was it regret? Or simply hollowness? This was not the ending I had imagined. I thought I would feel relief. Triumph. 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 leave. In the corner of the room, from the heart of the shadows, something shifted. It had no clear features, just a mass of darkness twisting in silence. It stopped beside the corpse, observed it briefly, then said in a cold voice, "It seems you completed the task."
I did not answer. I returned the dagger to its sheath and turned toward the door. My steps were steady, but inside I was like the wreck of a ship tossed by waves. I was searching for something. An answer. Or perhaps just a justification for what I had done. But there was nothing.
His voice cut through my thoughts again. "Do not tell me you feel sad."
I kept walking without turning, yet his words clung to my mind as I heard his footsteps approaching behind me.
"Are you grieving because you mutilated your old friend's corpse? Because you shattered the trust that once stood between you?"
I stopped. My fingers tightened inside my glove.
I almost replied, but the words stuck in my throat.
In the end I muttered, "It was necessary…"
Yet even as I spoke, there was a tightness in my throat. I continued walking without looking back. There was no point in talking. I had nothing to say, and I did not wish to waste time on useless justifications.
I convinced myself his words meant nothing to me. Or at least I tried to.
"Well, it does not matter. In any case, I have work to do."
He sounded as though he were speaking more to himself than to me. He continued staring at the corpse with intense focus.
"I cannot believe he managed to escape us for those three years. Surviving that long is truly interesting."
Before I disappeared behind the door, a strange movement caught the corner of my eye. From the surrounding shadows, dark arms emerged. They moved smoothly toward the corpse.
I stopped at the threshold. He muttered with a trace of puzzlement, "There is no information about the location of the system pieces."
"No information?"
"Nothing. Your old friend's memory is completely empty regarding the system pieces. Are you certain you did not seize the wrong person?"
His words struck me like lightning. Could I have made a mistake? No. Impossible. I was certain this was Jevan. The same sarcastic tone. The same confidence regardless of the situation. Even in his final moments.
The shadow interrupted my thoughts.
"It seems your old friend was smarter than we expected. He destroyed his memories entirely before we captured him."
I repeated his words. "Destroyed his memories?"
I laughed bitterly, but the sound that left me was hollow, broken, as if I were mocking myself more than the situation. Then I walked away.
"Was that your final safeguard?"
Before I could leave completely, his voice called out sharply this time. "Will you not hide the traces of the crime? If the Bureau of Public Investigation finds the body, the consequences will be severe."
I stopped and turned toward him, staring briefly at the shadowy arms still digging through the corpse before answering, "You will take care of hiding the evidence. I have a report to send to the superiors."
I did not wait for his response. I kept walking. I succeeded. Or at least I was supposed to. Another part of the Authority of Madness was now under my control. This was meant to be a crushing victory. A greater step toward my goal.
Yet there was no sense of triumph. No joy. No exhilaration. Only emptiness. Something had broken inside me the moment I chose this path. Or perhaps from the moment I took hold of this Authority.
And yet there was another feeling. Faint, but painful. Sadness. I did not fully understand it, nor did I wish to. But it was there, whispering that Jevan had not been merely an obstacle in my way.
He had once been a friend.
I kept walking, my mind drowning in questions. Was it worth it? But I quickly cut those thoughts at their root. There was no room for weakness now.
I chose this path. From the moment I sought revenge, I knew the price would be far too high.
I will achieve my revenge no matter the cost.
Even if the cost is abandoning my humanity.
Even if I must bury all my feelings.
This is the path I chose.
No room to return. No room for regret.
And yet, amid the darkness, in the depth of the surrounding silence, a small voice whispered inside my head, from the depths of the madness I carry.
"Is it truly worth all these sacrifices?"
***
After Marcus left, silence settled over the place. In the middle of the room stood a mysterious figure cloaked in shadows. Its features were unclear. Its eyes roamed over the torn corpse.
The lifeless body lay motionless, its stiff features bearing a faint smile.
The shadowed figure did not move immediately. It stood still, as if absorbing the scene. Or perhaps savoring it.
Then, with deliberate slowness, it raised a hand. Between its slender fingers appeared a small lighter. When it sparked to life, vivid tongues of flame flickered in the air.
With a slight gesture, it tossed a small flame toward the corpse. Soon the fire began devouring the room and the body together.
Heat rose. The orange glow flared around the mysterious figure, yet it did not tremble. It did not retreat. It simply watched the flames perform their task with the precision of a surgeon devoid of emotion.
For a brief moment, it seemed to think. Perhaps about the slain man. Or about Marcus. Or about what would come next. But it did not grant those thoughts more than a passing second.
It turned lightly and, at the door, cast one final glance at the place. In its eyes, if they could be seen, there was no regret and no pity. Only certainty in the inevitability of what had occurred.
Then it merged with the shadows, leaving behind a room consumed by fire.