Gone

As a red liquid was flowing onto the grond, nearly everything else was still. It dripped from a sharp blade, fell from a set of black armor, fell from a black glove. As the red substance dripped, a clear fluid fell as well. It fell from the eyes of a man void of thought and emotion.

The man looked at the mangled corpse at his feet and the two liquids mixed. The tears were devoured by the blood and swiftly disappeared as if never there. The man walked away and never looked back at the woman, for she was fated to be remembered as a mere number by her murderer.

"188."

Hagan walked behind the inn and washed the blood off himself. Then slipped into the shadows, too ashamed to walk through the town he'd come to love so dearly.

A few hours later, the sun was high above his head as he walked in a forest. Hagan had fought his fair share of battles along the way, luckily, for his remaining sanity, none of which involved humans. Pushing all thoughts out of his head, Hagan marched eastward, towards the area Shiva's Hands were discovered. He hoped to find another artifact of Shiva's or at least some information about Shiva. Or a way home.

Hagan didn't bother to think about anything. As if simply having a though would make the rest of his humanity disappear with no trace left behind, leaving him with an empty soul, head, and heart. Many abominations barred his path forward but he never bothered to give them a thought. His sword that was made of light turned red with blood, his armor was red with blood, his hands were red with blood, and his face was red with blood.

None of which belonged to him. Hagan felt that he was a true tool now, the very thing Raaz was making of him before. He felt this way because he had no thoughts of his own, only the desire to complete a job, which was reach the place Shiva's Hands were. The Voice of The Gods resounded in his ears more times than he bothered to remember, the voice of The Speaker resounded a few times but he never bothers to listen. Hagan marched, marched, and marched. He killed, killed, and killed.

Walk, walk, kill, walk, kill, walk, kill.

A rhythm seeped into Hagan's mind without him noticing.

'Kill. Walk. Kill. Walk. Kill. Walk. Kill! Walk! Kill! Kill! Walk! Walk! Kill! Walk!'

He walked a steady pace, swung a steady arm, and his heart bested a steady rhythm.

Finally, in the distance, a clearing in the forest appeared, and with it, the ruins of a cathedral stood. As he neared, Hagan noticed that there was no more creatures around. Then The Speaker resounded once again.

"You… wa-… -ome."

Hagan failed to listen once again and kept walking forward. He opened the decaying wooden doors and went to the front of the building and sat down on a bench.

Slowly, he brought his hands up to his face. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

And regretted.