A sea of black and soft ivy comfortably wakes me. Plants should not make this good of a bed, although it has been so long since I have lied on something soft that perhaps anything would feel amazing. My whole body feels strangely… tingly. As if I am relaxed for the first time in an age which is true as well. I don’t think the concept of relaxation has crossed my mind since I was a child. You don’t relax while killing, and post-killing has given me very little time to relax as well. Ideas like meditation and relaxation was always alien to me – if you have energy, you should work. If you don’t have energy, you should sleep so you can work later on. The endless grinding of work and killing was all that kept me going for basically my whole life and… well, now I understand why rest is important. It feels illuminating, sensually exquisite – a moment where I can actually decompress but what about? Why? What do I have to think about? I don’t work, I kill. My sentence was cut short and without a doubt, once I leave this place, I will be hunted down for the rest of my life by not only monsters but people as well. And they should. I should be back in Langnet’s road, walking down the cursed pathway to my doom and yet I am here. Free. Thank Fael I have no desire to kill. The more I think about it, the stranger that statement seems. A serial killer who has no desire to kill is like a nymphomaniac who has no desire to have sex suddenly. Everything I lived for now makes me sick. Every memory I have now makes me shake. The screams never end. The sadness bites me to my very core. The fear makes me tear up. This curse truly never ends.

In this plane – the plane of potential – I wonder what has changed about me if anything at this point. Living here is gambling with everything. Everything could and might happen, yet it feels like nothing much has personally. Well, the meeting with those serial killers was quite random. The death of the guard was also by no mere humans hands. The ivy I am sleeping on, is this all made up of random potentials and acts? Who is this smith? I have never heard of someone forging Dreg to move and have life, but there is the potential that there is someone who could. Each leaf moves as if it was real and feels the same, yet there is a coldness and inorganic sheen that makes it almost too real. Too alive – so alive that there is no way it could truly be. No matter how hard I pull at one, it does not come off. No matter how hard I try, I cannot tear a single leaf, regardless of how thin it is. I am sure with a single slice of Savra, I could remove a leaf but Fael knows what would happen if I did that. Perhaps I would be attacked, or perhaps I would kill the ivy completely. I don’t want to kill such a beautiful room.

Kill… that strike I did was well-trained and perfect. I have killed that way many times before, although normally I am much crueler with it. If I remember the last time I cut someone like that, I had cut their body into little pieces while they were standing. I then left the room open and unlocked with food just out of reach on the ground. I told them that if they moved, they would die. Would hunger kill them or would their instincts do the trick? They stood still for quite a while but eventually, the hunger was too much. When I check the room out later, their body had fallen into eight pieces. There was no screaming, but instead a slow and painful death with no chance for salvation. Other times I had greased Savra and cut on angles so my victims’ bodies would slowly slide apart. If they moved, they would die quickly. They moved after the first few minutes normally. Why? Why did I get pleasure from doing such things? With each dead person, I ruined the lives of countless others. Why am I here? Why did I kill those murderers? Am I no better by doing the same act? Well, I am no better regardless because of the actions I have already taken. I suppose the question is; why do I fight now?

Getting to my feet is a bit of a challenge. The ivy is soft and has a slight bounce, but any pressure makes it roll in a strange manner. It is like a hammock made of loose ivy threads. Shifting myself to the sides is the best I can do before lurching myself up and off the ivy. Ow! The floor is hard and cold, and my shoulder is going to have a nasty bruise. There has to be a smarter way of getting off the bed… thinking about it, I could have just used the ivy itself to pull myself up… Wol’zarath I am dumb.

Still, the question remains. Why do I live? What is the purpose of my actions? Why try to help? Why do I fight? Is it really to help the victims? If I wanted to help the victims, I would either kill myself or suffer for the rest of my days. I would let them beat me to death and do whatever other cruel actions befits a slaughterer like me. Why do I fight? What is my purpose now?

Life is a miracle and death its end,

Lost in my thoughts oh how I wish for more,

Humanity is a façade that I pretend,

Suffer for breaking this worlds every law.

I am now a coward of the worst kind,

Dismember limbs and family alike,

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

My soul was darkness that one should not find,

Why walk when my head should be on a spike?

Why do I fight when this change is a curse?

Deserve redemption mocks those I tarnished,

Morality from my soul is coerce,

Only hate and torment should be garnished.

Why do I deserve to live and fight?

Because I can use darkness to bring light.

I am in a unique position when looking back on my life. All the torture and torment I created can be used to counter those that would try to copy or pursue similar deeds to my own. I know how serial killers think and act down to the very core of their being. I know what they want and owing to my past experiences, I get the gist that there is a little fandom of killers that surrounds my… depraved work. I could help guards track down other killers but if I were to return, Langnet’s road would be my destination. If I were to ask for a second chance, no such thing would be given because why? Why would anyone give me a second chance? My words and voice should be useless and meaningless.

My next action could be one of good and light,

I should turn myself in and seek to help,

Perhaps I can prove useful in a fight,

Or show that I can find delicious kelp.

A curse it is but desire greatness,

I do not deserve such a forgiveness,

My good deeds are but a depraved lateness,

Why do I spit on the grievers' business?

Each of my actions has a consequence,

I am a disgusting coward hiding,

I sicken myself lacking confidence,

Langnet’s road for aid I should be riding.

Please give me a chance to prove I am changed,

Let me prove my soul is clean not deranged.

But why would anyone give me that chance? Honestly, I can only listen to my self-pity for so long. Why the fuck am I here to begin with? Why the fuck do I care about all this? All this thinking is just me wasting time. Why waste time when I could be out in the world doing something – anything! I could be out there, taking the risk and asking the guards if I can help. I should be back and groveling for forgiveness. I should be acting, not standing in a room of black ivy weeping. How dare I?! How dare I do any of this? I rended the choice to do good from the souls and fates of my victims. I severed the chance for positivity when I left families broken and loved ones tortured and dead. I should give up Savra. I should lie down in the streets and let punishment come my way. I should do so much and yet I stand here, a coward. Afraid of the future. Unable to act and frozen by the emotions I insulted so much when first entering Langnet’s road. I am a disgrace. I will leave this place. I do not deserve hospitality, I deserve depravity. I do not deserve redemption, I deserve rejection. My deeds are so dark that even a spark is a blinding light in comparison, so why should I try and grow a fire made from the kindling of evil deeds? I am nothing but a disgusting coward. Fuck it. This is useless to think about. I need to move forward. I need to grow. If I catch myself thinking like this one more time, I will slit my own throat.

My next plan is to thank the kind old man,

Malz has given me time to think and learn,

I will not keep up self-pity be damn,

I will move from here and let the world turn.

The road or the noose – let it come my way,

By Fael no more fear and silence,

I have committed evil deeds now pay,

I will try to end all damned violence.

Fuck my soul and body it’s time to act,

I’d rather die than waste one more second,

Now’s time to let humanity react,

Will I be torn and slaughtered or beckoned?

Goodbye Malz it’s time to face the music,

One more question and my hand I’ll shoot it.

It takes little time to push my way out of the ivy. I wipe my tears. No more questions. No more thinking. No more emotions clouding my judgment. Now is the time to act. Now is the time to earn that redemption. I have given myself to so much evil – no, never again shall I think like that. I am not stuck in the past, I am now only going to look at the future. If people want to judge me for my past, I welcome it. Let me forget who I am. Let me forget what I have done. Let me forget everything and start again. Now I have a mission. I turn and tear open the ivy to where Malz was sleeping. He is there, lying in a hammock of ivy. He just looks at me without a care in the world. Good.

“Good morning, Malz. I have a request.”

“Good morning Fa. A request, you say?”

I lift Savra. My partner. The one who has been by my side for so long. The one who has allowed me to perfect only the cruelest techniques. The one who has been an instrument of the deplorable and depraved. The instrument that has sung the song of senseless slaughter – no more.

“Remake her. Turn her into something else, I care not. Turn her into an ivy leaf for all I care. Destroy Savra. Destroy the past. Turn her into something that can help people. Turn her into anything else. She… no, it has only brought misery ever since my hands have gotten on it. Never again shall I kill. Never again shall I cause pain.”

“To say such things through tears requires quite the conviction. Very well, I shall. Pass the blade here.”

Tears? Me? Fucking again. No, let this be the last time. Let these be the final farewell of my last life. Letting go of Savra is near impossible. It is like my body is viscerally trying to keep her in my grasp. Fuck this. I punch myself. Hard. I do it again. And again. And again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Blood. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Darkness. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Savra falls from my hand. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Nothingness.