Zaber walked through the city streets, but he barely saw those around him. It was as if his thoughts, not his body, were directing his steps. Heavy, slow, but uninterrupted. At every turn, he explored not the city, but his inner self.
He spoke to himself in a low voice, almost whispering:
"I couldn't ask for their souls… but to kill them, I only needed to deliver a great blow to their souls…"
He stopped. In a narrow part of the street, beside a damp wall. He raised his hand. He stared at his palm.
He slowly clenched his fingers, as if grasping something.
"With this chain… how much more can I do?.."
He started walking again. His steps neither quickened nor slowed. But his thoughts were now beginning to gather in one place.
"I didn't feel pleasure like when I killed Sara… nor when I killed the village… nor when I killed those kids…"
He pressed his lips together.
"So… do I need to kill more people?.."
The moment the chain pulled. Resistance. And… something.
