Chapter 78: Coming Clean

He remembered the pain of cleaning his system of Wasteland. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was nothing, absolute heaven, compared to this.

The fire rose up from the depths of his soul and devoured him whole, no mercy, and no respite. And he let it, embraced it, lost in the agony, begging it to kill him at last, to end it and him and release the misery of what he had become.

He reached the moment when there was no pain left, at least not as he could identify it. He lifted above it, letting go of his definition of the sensation, at last shielded and protected from it in the end.

Fresco was grateful. Now was the time, the ending of his story. And he was ready.

Somewhere, a little girl was crying.

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