When Sevatar found Altani's cryo-capsule,
a body, battered beyond recognition, lay before him.
He knew that every heartbeat he spent with her now was a waste of precious time,
yet he could not make himself move.
Altani spoke.
"So this is what you look like."
"You seem tired, Yago."
Sevatar gave no answer and walked away.
He found the Astropath who had tortured her
and, with the same whip used on her, slowly strangled him.
When the Dark Angels burst through the gate, guns levelled at him,
Sevatar twisted the corpse's head off and tossed it aside.
With stubborn fury he roared:
"I am justice!"
"I am judgement!"
"I am retribution!"
And I surrender."
Sevatar was thrown back into a cell.
There, in perfect darkness, he found calm.
The psyker-wrought torments that once would have killed him had stilled; he no longer heard or saw the dead.
In their place another vision arose.
In the lightless zones the Sun cannot reach—lands where monsters and xenos banished during the Great Crusade still lurk—there was fresh slaughter to be done.
In the dark, Altani's voice reached him again:
"Yago, are you still there?"
Sevatar smiled.
From this moment, the fates of Sevatar and Konrad Curze diverged forever.
Before he met Altani, Sevatar had been a dark hero who erred, much like his gene-sire.
Curze never found his little girl, but Sevatar found his own justice—his Altani.
So, at the end, Sevatar understood what he had truly sought.
Justice.
Justice was the last thing left in his heart—not some muddled worship of Curze and justice combined,
but the simplest kind: you hurt someone, so I kill you.
Curze had once foreseen much the same: Sevatar's destiny would heap endless pain upon him before he found final peace.
Out of loyalty he would walk a long dark road at Curze's side,
yet Sevatar would one day reclaim his own path.
Curze could not see its end, but he could see the Eighth Legion's core conviction embodied—perfectly—in its First Captain.
That conviction would keep him alive.
Marvel Universe
In the Viewing Hall the air was suddenly heavy.
Tony lifted his coffee, blew across the rim, and broke the silence first.
"All right, let me recap." He sounded as if analysing a project report.
"This big guy, to save one tortured girl, kills a dozen soldiers plus the torturer. ROI-wise it's a catastrophic loss. Then he just… surrenders? What is that—post-massacre clarity?"
"It wasn't a transaction, Tony."
Steve's voice stayed steady, though his brows were locked.
"He saw a wrong he helped cause—an innocent hurt because of him. He tried to right it the only way he knew how. His method was wrong, catastrophically so. But his motive was to balance the scales."
"Justice? Come on, Cap."
A young, energetic voice cut in—Spider-Man, Peter Parker, hanging upside-down from the ceiling.
"That girl needed a Doctor and therapy, not a bloody revenge show! He could've carried her out, or knocked those guys out—anything but the Chainsword! So many options, and he picked the worst one!"
"He didn't have options."
A gravel-cold voice came from the darkest corner. Frank Castle, the Punisher, wiped down a pistol without looking up.
"He's not like you." He jerked his chin at the screen. "He knows there's no middle ground with men like that. Knock 'em out? They wake up and find the next girl. Run? They take it out on more innocents. Sevatar did the only right thing: he took out the trash, then paid the bill. Clean and done."
Frank's words made Peter shiver. "But… he killed so many… "
"He only killed the guilty," Frank added coldly, and said no more.
"Maybe," Steve sighed, eyes returning to the dark screen, complicated. "But maybe… in that eternal night, for him, this was the one true victory he'd ever claim."
DC Universe
"I can't understand it."
Clark Kent, Superman, was first to speak, sorrow and confusion in his blue eyes.
"He killed so many for one person. How is that justice? It's just more violence, more tragedy."
"He's a serial killer, Clark—plain and simple."
Flash, Barry Allen, agreed, speaking far slower than usual.
"Whatever that girl suffered, this isn't the answer. Law, procedure—don't those exist in his World?"
"Maybe they don't."
Wonder Woman, Diana Prince, sounded like an ancient warrior weighing the matter.
"The torturer deserved his fate; his Death was a belated verdict. But the other soldiers were only tools following orders. Sevatar's path is one of sorrow and vengeance, not true justice. Real justice needs something stronger than rage."
Amid the debate Bruce Wayne sat silent in the shadows, motionless as a statue.
Behind him Alfred murmured, soft enough for only them to hear,
"He uses fear as his weapon, sir. He seeks his own brand of justice… and he too lives in an eternal night. The line is terribly thin, isn't it?"
Bruce offered no reply, but the clench of his jaw betrayed the storm inside.
Clark noticed the silence and turned, worry threading his voice:
"Bruce, you can't condone this. It violates everything you stand for."
Batman finally spoke, voice rough and low, as if rising from a cave.
"He crossed the line. He killed."
Simple, direct, emotionless—the fundamental verdict he passed on others and on himself.
He paused, sharp eyes seeming to bore through the screen at the soul that had found calm in darkness.
"Yet he saw himself as justice. In a World without hope, without law, he became the law—broken, terrifying, but internally consistent."
Batman leaned slightly forward; shadows swallowed more of his face.
"We use fear to deter, we draw lines, we wait for the law to finish the job. He… made rage and pain his only tools. He abandoned every other option—or perhaps, in his World, there never were any."
He let the silence stretch until his final words sent a chill through them all.
"The most unsettling part is his surrender. Not remorse, not exhaustion—he pronounced his own endpoint. He deemed himself guilty, carried out the sentence, then accepted the punishment. A perfect, terrifying closed loop."
Bruce Wayne leaned back, melting once more into the dark.
"He is the abyss. He is what a man becomes when he stares into the abyss long enough to become it."