Back when Jonn's age was in the single digits, he and his sister had still been close enough to play together. Wrestling had been one of their favourite games. He'd act the part of the Undertaker, and Sophie would be Rey Mysterio—because he was big, and she was little. Relatively speaking. He hadn't been an especially tall child, but Sophie had been smaller than average. And the female wrestlers weren't cool enough for her.

For the most part, it had been a fun time, but one of John's formative memories, which Sophie claimed not to remember whatsoever, took place in their back garden before their parents had decided they were too old for a climbing frame and had it removed. It was such a stupid thing. He didn't even remember what had got him so mad. That wasn't the important part.

The crux of the matter was this: Sophie had done something to piss him off in their imaginary bout, his vision had turned red, and suddenly the fight was no longer imaginary. When he'd come back to himself, his knuckles hurt, and his little sister was on the ground, crying. Mum had been watching, and she screamed bloody murder at him, though she'd only taken it as playing too rough, rather than losing his temper over something innocuous.

A hysterical laugh threatened to escape from his chest, as he realised that he was comparing getting mad and punching his sister in the face during one of their dumb games to losing his cool at a sadistic woman torturing a child, and…

John swallowed. There was a lump in his throat that felt as sharp as a chunk of glass. His hands were trembling. Distantly, he noted that his Sanguine Clone was standing still too, and he really needed it to go on the offensive and run interference as it had been. Keep the other four off him for a little longer.

But his mind was stuttering. A clockwork machine with cogs that had gotten jammed. All other thoughts were drowned out by panicked monologue repeating in his mind:

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

As a child, he'd thought his sister's teary eyes staring up at him with hurt, betrayal, and fear had been the worst thing ever. Obviously, his child self never could have imagined the feeling of looking down on a stranger's prone, unmoving body, her glassy eyes staring unseeing up at a fiery sky, and knowing that he'd been the one to end her.

Was there blood on his hands? There had to be. He didn't dare look down and check.

In a horrific bit of irony, his mind only unjammed in order to ask questions he suddenly decided he didn't want to consider the answers to, but once they started, he couldn't make them stop.

Who was this woman? What was her name? Her story? Her background? Why had the system granted her illusionary magic? What did that say about her? What had motivated her to go to such extremes? What had Curtis done to make someone hate him this much?

None of those questions could ever be answered.

John drew in shaky breaths, each one feeling like it wasn't filling his lungs even halfway. He was light-headed. The world was tilting from side to side. He could feel his heartbeat in his skull like his brain was a stubbed toe.

"Fuck," he whispered. Why couldn't he close his eyes? Or just fucking look away?

He tried telling himself she deserved what had happened, and he found he even meant it. No matter what Curtis had done, torturing and murdering his daughter was an inexcusable crime, and in a just world he wouldn't have batted an eye if she'd received the death penalty, or a life sentence at the very least. Whoever she'd been, wherever she'd come from, whatever had happened to her, she'd done something that couldn't be forgiven, and her life was justly forfeit because of it.

But that didn't stop the way his stomach was turning. It didn't slow down his racing heartbeat. He felt simultaneously hyperaware and faint; one part of him wanted to go limp and surrender to oblivion, while the other wanted to flood his body with manic energy and do something. Anything. He didn't know what. Either way, standing around here panicking was doing nothing for him.

In the end, he didn't escape from his doom spiral by his own doing. While the majority of his attention had been dedicated to his real body, staring blankly, unmoving, a part of him still registered his clone doing the same.

Except the clone was in a very different situation to his main body. It had been in the middle of a fight, going all out to keep the woman's four comrades from breaking into the woods and overwhelming him, and doing a damn good job of it. Versatile as it was, it had put four enemies on the defensive all by itself.

When it stopped fighting, though, there was only one possible outcome. He didn't see what had done it, since the visual fidelity of the clone's perspective was far less clear than his human eyes, but it was impossible to miss when his perspective narrowed to just one set of eyes, snapping him back into his main body alone.

Something came over John, then. Maybe it was born from a desperate search for a distraction from the grim, bloody reality sprawled around him in a clearing in a small copse of trees in the corner of some park sitting between Watford and one of its satellite towns.

It didn't matter. All he knew was that a new feeling aside from horror was creeping in, and he grabbed it with two hands, doing everything he could to help it overpower his emotions and send him into a state where he didn't have to think anymore.

All he needed to do was tell himself this:

If it weren't for these pricks, I wouldn't be in this mess right now.

Rage burned red across his vision, and he turned away from the corpses. Hundreds of violent scenarios ran through his head as he stomped through the foliage, making a beeline for the enemy. He could see all four of them. The little copse of trees wasn't exactly thick; they could probably see him too, even. It didn't matter.

They weren't in much of a formation. One of the golden warriors was tiptoeing gingerly towards the spot where the clone had last been standing, while the other was a few paces behind, hissing at her compatriot. The Gundam was far off on one side, while the Trooper in his black armour was on one knee further away on the other side, peering dubiously over the same rise John had last seen him behind.

John got the impression that their sudden victory over an opponent who had previously been putting them on the back foot had taken them off guard, and they were reacting slowly, cautiously, checking to make sure the enemy was really defeated before daring to advance.

They were right to be cautious. The enemy wasn't defeated. Not by a long shot.

As if in response to John's thoughts, the Gundam's head snapped in his direction, and his wings flared out, the four lights brightening. There were little turrets on his shoulders, sporting miniature radar dishes that glowed a mild red, hard to see under the fiery light of the burning sky.

"He's dead!" The Gundam guy cried out with utter jubilation in his voice. "Marian got him!"

John felt like he was going to spit blood. If you have some way of sensing that Curtis is dead, then you can sense that your fucking comrade is dead too, you shit.

He had a name for the dead woman now, and he didn't know what to think about that. Marian. Such a normal name.

More importantly, John thought, if you can sense Curtis, you can sense the other body sprawled across his, you…

His mind trailed off, lacking the adequate vocabulary to describe just how much of a piece of shit this man was. How scummy all of them were. They were cheering. He could see them doing little dances of celebration. The two golden warriors had rushed to hug each other, even.

They thought it was all over. Whatever nightmarish ordeal Curtis had subjected them to, they'd finally purged it, and they could now move on with their lives.

John found he couldn't hold it back anymore. He let out a scream of inarticulate rage. It seemed to tear right out of his own heart, burning through his throat and exploding past his teeth. It sounded inhuman, even to his own ears.

+1000 Aura

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He had just enough wherewithal to delve into his Aura menu and add a new Skill, one that had caught his eye some time ago, but never thought he'd have much cause to use.

Unlocked Intimidate Level 5!

-8000 Aura

He barely registered the typical haptic buzz that came with a new ability unlocking, just activating the Skill the moment it slotted into his repertoire. There was no visible change. He couldn't feel anything, either. All he knew was that all four enemies seemed to tense. That was enough.

Throwing himself into a Flash Step that launched him right out of the forest, jaw clenched so tight that a more rational John might have worried about his teeth, he aimed an Ultimate Shot at the nearest enemy. Since it was moving at a 'normal' speed, the golden warrior facing him was able to see it coming and shove her compatriot to the side while diving in the other direction, letting the shining projectile fly over their head and crash into a small rise in the grass, subjecting its myriad elemental effects to some yellowing plants rather than a person.

+1000 Aura

He should have been happy about that. In a rational state, he would have noted it was a good thing that his potentially-deadly Spell hadn't struck another human dead on and potentially added another body to his kill count.

All he felt was rage. Accelerate had long ended its cooldown, and he activated it. The world slowed around him, and he rushed forward, chasing the golden warrior who had seen him coming. He heard the other call out a warning, her voice rendered deep and bassy by the slow motion, but John wasn't going to let that stop him.

Unstoppable Charge was one of many Skills that hadn't seen much action since he unlocked it, but it proved its worth now. He slammed into the golden warrior and carried on right through her, sending her cartwheeling through the air even as he kept up the momentum, charging right for the Gundam.

+1000 Aura

The man-sized mech trained all four of the green lights on its wings at John. They brightened, ready to fire. He didn't give it the chance.

Teleportation activated, and he eyeballed the location he needed to land in. Teleportation didn't show him the locations of other people, but his guess was close enough; he found himself perhaps a metre or two behind the Gundam guy. It would have been cooler, perhaps, to arrive right behind him, close enough to make a little quip before tearing the guy apart, but he was in no mood for that kind of shit besides.

+1000 Aura

He put Aurora Blade in both slots, dashed to the Gundam's back with nothing more than Level 7 Strength and Agility, and slashed down with both arms. The Gundam had only just been in the beginning of turning to face him, with the radar dishes on its shoulders spinning wildly, and so it was helpless to stop his attack. Aurora Blade didn't quite shear through metal like it was paper—his attack got about halfway before wrenching to a stop.

But there was more to the Spell, of course, than its cutting power. Mana Blade alone might have found this situation a problem, but it also contained an amalgamation of Ice Grasp, Dominate, Phantom Hand, and Gravity Snare.

Ice radiated out from the deep cut John had scored into the wings, rushing over the back of and inside the Gundam's suit. The other effects were less flashy, but still noticeable. Phantom Hand made him feel abruptly like he was holding a figurine-sized gundam in each hand, and he squeezed. Like some kind of voodoo magic, the Gundam's arms and wings were constricted close to its body, like some enormous invisible hand had grabbed it. Gravity Snare did its job, too, visibly increasing the force of gravity on the mecha, digging its legs steadily deeper into the ground.

Dominate was the oddest effect of all. Used on monsters, it had rendered them essentially insensate, at least in the case of blues. Here, he had attacked a mechanical construct wielded by another man, and he found, to his shock, that the system had decided this meant granting him the opportunity to seize control over the Gundam's systems, if he had the will for it.

He decided, right then, that he had will in spades.

There was no need for an instruction manual or training course. All he needed to do was think, instinctively, attack, and the Gundam simply did. One of the wings had had its electronics scrambled by the spreading ice, but the other was still somewhat operational, if only for a few more moments. John wasted no time; with a mental command, the wing rotated and pivoted, then disgorged its laser at maximum available power with an ear-splitting whine.

A green beam erupted from the wing with enough power that the metal exploded in shrapnel. The emerald lance of light speared towards the Storm Trooper far faster than he ever could have reacted, and from an angle where the rise in the grass he was hiding behind was worthless. It didn't hit him dead on, but it didn't need to. The grass exploded inches from the Trooper with enough force that he was sent hurtling into the air, cartwheeling heel over head.

All this, and the golden warrior he had tackled into the air hadn't even landed yet. John registered, distantly, that Accelerate was rather overpowered for PvP combat.

He found he didn't care. PvP wasn't even a secondary concern to him—or, at least, it wasn't supposed to be. He was meant to be out killing monsters, not worrying about what piece of shit humans were up to. How effective would that laser have been against the insect horde? The same question applied to the Storm Trooper's crossbow minigun; it looked like an outrageously good ranged weapon for crowd control, with that absurd rate of fire. The mirage woman, Marian, might have been able to sneak right past all the monsters and get straight to the core of the portal worlds, taking them down without any casualties. He didn't know what the golden warriors could bring to the table against monsters, exactly, but he was sure there was something better they could have been doing with their time than hunting Curtis and his daughter.

Objectively, he knew Curtis probably deserved it. No doubt, he'd brutally killed people that these four loved, and they felt just as justified in pursuing their revenge as he did now in punishing them for it.

But he remembered the pain in Claire's voice, and found he didn't care.

A few more slashes with Aurora Blade, and the Gundam didn't have wings anymore. He didn't stop there. He slashed at the arms, legs, and torso of the metal suit, scoring lines that spread frost and influence across the mecha, steadily wrestling more and more control of it from its master. Soon, he had it almost entirely under his control. He could feel the man within thrashing around desperately. Could hear his cries, though they were muffled, and in slow motion.

Good.

So too were the others having a bad time, as he had taken the opportunity, before the wings were destroyed, to set off a few more friendly fire laser beams at overcharged power. He had them all tumbling around like rag dolls, sprayed with dirt and debris from each shot.

It wasn't enough for him. They needed more punishment. A Meteor Strike went a long distance towards showing them the error of their ways, slamming down so close to the Storm Trooper that he was sent flying across the grass once more, landing in a heap barely a few metres away from where John and his new Gundam puppet were standing. Tornado sent the golden duo spinning through the air, and he mentally commanded it to throw them back towards him. They tumbled across the grass in a tangle of limbs, landing right at his feet.

Stepping forward, he snatched at their helmets before they could do anything, tearing them off. The golden duo were revealed to be twins, blond-haired, blue-eyed, the kind of girls who probably would have hung off each of Luke Farnell's arms at school. The Storm Trooper was a middle-aged, pudgy man, with big ears and a flat nose. Uninteresting.

When he was done with them, he gave the Gundam a hard shove, and watched it slam onto its back, powerless, helpless. With a few well-placed hits, the cracks he'd scored in its metallic shell rent apart, and it started to fall apart in pieces, revealing a pale, skinny man, with dark hair, and Asian features that he assumed were Japanese, given the Gundam aesthetic. He was wearing a suit. Like a businessman.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Monstrous features, maybe; glowing evil eyes, pointed teeth, dark auras, and such. But no. They were just… normal people.

All four of his enemies were breathing hard, while John didn't feel like he'd broken a sweat. In slow motion, he could hear their whimpers, their cries, their groans. It sounded like music to his ears, and it also sounded horrible.

He had to wait a few more heartbeats for Accelerate to end, and when it did, he wasted no time in activating Intimidate.

Four sets of eyes snapped to him. Wide, trembling, fearful.

It should have felt good, it should have felt right, it should have felt like justice.

The rage left him, and he felt numb.

He didn't want to hear these people's stories. He didn't want to learn what Curtis had done to turn four normal-looking people into ghouls who would celebrate like they'd won a prize when they discovered their comrade had tortured a child for revenge. What did it matter? It was already done. The girl was dead. The woman who'd done it was dead. And these four… John might have had a kill under his belt now, but he didn't think it had fundamentally altered him from the person he had been half an hour ago.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to execute a defeated enemy for his objectively worse and more numerous crimes then, and he found he couldn't do it now, either.

And so, with a sigh, he turned away, leaving the four of them trembling on the ground, and walked back to the trees without a word.

His mind was numb, blank. He didn't want to think about these things anymore. The next thing on his agenda, the only thing that mattered, was finding somewhere safe he could activate Rest, both so he could get a bit of a break, and so he could fucking scream into that void space without having to worry about getting deducted Aura for acting like an unhinged lunatic.

But there was something he had to do first. He couldn't leave them where they lay.

That being said, it took some psyching up to actually handle the cooling corpses. He felt ill at how cold their bodies were to the touch, snatching his hand away like he'd been burned the first time he worked up the courage. He even got an Aura deduction for that, but found he didn't care.

Claire went first. Steeling himself, he laid his hand upon hers and pulled her into his Inventory. It was something he'd suspected he could do ever since he'd grabbed the bat monster's corpse what felt like forever ago, and he was proven right. The body appeared in his Inventory, listed with a drop-down menu that broke down the various parts of her body in a kind of catalogue he could peruse, if he were so grotesquely inclined. It listed her, overall, as Human Corpse, and nothing more. Impersonal. Gross as it was, he'd anticipated that.

There was one thing he hadn't been expecting, though, and he probably should have seen it coming. A new option appeared in the Inventory menu, hovering right next to the Human Corpse.

Revive: 500 Souls.

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