Cain silently stood in front of a house. Through the window, he could see a family having a happy dinner.

The family seemed well-off; this could be discerned due to the good condition of the building, as well as it being a suburban home instead of an apartment building.

Inside was one of the traitors on Cain's list, a well-off businessman who worked closely with the Family. The man also helped the Family kidnap people, but he made up for it when giving the Organization inside information.

"There's a good chance he could be the mole. He has no reason to help the Organization, and the Family can also easily notice what he's been doing. There's also the possibility he's not the only mole. This is why I have to go down the whole list... they all have to die."

Cain took a step closer to the building. "They'll die with the last bit of humanity I have left—the me who came out of that strange portal so long ago. I will take their lives and give up my humanity in return. Because for once, I don't have a good reason for killing them, not one backed by logic or my mental illness. It is me who will kill them without reason, me alone. This is the strange clarity that has overcome me, and I need this clarity to stay."

Cain could easily take these people away and lock them in some prison, it's not like what they did was wrong, it was simply a difficult situation, and preserving one's own life came first.

They weren't like the others Cain killed, to seek freedom, killing people in a war, having no choice in a dying realm. His madness had long cleared, he knew these people were worthless killing because doing so achieved nothing that mattered.

Yes, they did wrong, but they also did good. Their actions hurt many but also saved many, and if they didn't exist, someone else would be in their place. This was the truth, this was reality. Ultimately, they were innocent against the flow of destiny, their fates sealed.

Cain understood this, but he still decided to kill them anyway. He planned for more than that as well.

There wasn't a need, but that's exactly what made it needed. A paradox of his mind that he set on himself, so he could soar once more.

Slowly, he walked up to the door and knocked. It was a slow, heavy knock.

The door crept open, and on the other side, a young woman answered.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

The woman quickly turned disturbed seeing the visitor. Cain remained blank, seeming lost in thought. There seemed to be tears forming at the bottom of his eyes.

'This is what I must do; this is no longer a game or 'fun.' This is real. I am real; they are real. I don't have an excuse that can ease my consciousness; I only have the blood that will flow on my hands.'

His hands uncontrollably shook. Cain pushed the young woman and forcefully entered the house. While he did this, thin strands of mist connected to everyone inside without anyone noticing.

"Hey, who are you!" The voice was filled with anger and astonishment; it was Cain's target.

Cain ignored him. He grabbed the girl's neck, the one he had just pushed. His grip tightened around as her eyes grew wide and alarmed. Due to connecting to her with the mist, he could feel his grip on his own neck; he could feel the horror and panic.

His heart began to speed up, and sweat flowed out from his pores. He even almost lost his grip.

"I'm sorry. This is a necessary outcome."

Cain let the last remnants of his emotions come out; he seeped out the remaining humanity within him just to crush it through the use of these innocent victims.

The girl's father, the target, ran at Cain, punching away at him. Tears swelled, and he realized Cain was unfazed, like an impenetrable wall.

Cain too felt his confusion and hysteria, the tears in his eyes broke through and streamed down his face. It was strange to see, it was maddening, it was absurd.

By now, the man's daughter couldn't breathe, bruises surged around her neck, and her eye began to pop out. Cain felt this; he felt everyone's pain and emotions. He almost turned mad as he heard the girl's neck snap.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

His mind paused as he let go and watched the lifeless body drop to the floor. Cain felt himself die, and the emotions he felt from the girl disappeared into nothingness.

Already on his knees in defeat, the target, the girl's father, didn't seem to register her death as he crawled over to check on her.

Everything was happening so abruptly, but to Cain, it felt so long, like eons. He wanted to leave; he wanted to stop. But he couldn't; this was all necessary. He now knew this was his own destiny, his own unshakable fate.

He needed to destroy himself one last time, the final time.

'How strange life is.....how cruel and estrange the rules of this world are....how contradicting and sadistic fate seems to be. Do you exist, oh great fate? Are you truly a law that governs all? If so, why, why have you done this.....'

Cain felt lost, and madness and confusion ensued throughout the house.

The stranger now walked towards the young child whom he previously saw happily setting the table. The poor boy's eyes were already wet with tears. He looked up at Cain, who was towering over him. The boy's face didn't hold any emotions, but that's because it was frozen with fear.

Cain could feel his fear, his confusion. He too felt confused and wronged like the boy, his arm paused as he raised it towards the boy, infected by the child's fear.

At first, the boy strangely felt like it was the warm hands of one of his uncles going to rustle his hair while telling him how tall he'd gotten. Instead, the cold hand landed on his face, it slowly squeezed and continued to compress like a vise that had no limit.

It was only seconds before the boy's thoughts stopped, and his head exploded like a watermelon, brain matter and chunks of skull scattered around the kitchen.

Once more, Cain felt himself die, he felt those human emotions disappear again.

Still nudging his daughter, her father whispered to himself while rowing back and forth almost like a baby in a cradle. Meanwhile, the man's wife screamed in horror at her son's abrupt death.

Hearing her, Cain turned and blankly stared. He was like a monster wearing human flesh, a lifeless one with no meaning other than to destroy lives and haunt dreams.

The woman quickly shut up, and her emotions skyrocketed. Fear, unwillingness, hatred, cowardice.

Stepping back, the wife prepared to run, but as her leg moved, it stopped in a place like a statue, she couldn't move her body.

Cain's footsteps echoed, each step heavier than the last. His anxiety rose as the woman's did; he could feel his heart pump faster and faster, a few times he even stumbled as his feet tried to take a step back instead of going forever forward.

He could feel his whole world was ending.

Before the woman could say anything, Cain grabbed her arm and used his other hand to grab her shoulder.

Then, he slowly pulled.

Slowly, he saw her flesh rip, he too felt his arm separating from his body. Slowly, he saw the woman's insides, her muscles and tendons snapping one by one, revealing the bones hidden beneath.

He almost stopped midway, thinking his arm was crippled. But he didn't stop, Cain realized his emotions were now colder, he felt more in control, and he was.... distant, distant from everything.

He was slowly taking steps away from himself, step after step.

Abruptly like a brewing volcano, blood gushed as an arm was ripped from a torso. Cain couldn't help but think one of his arms was gone and almost tried to restore it with his mist, but with his newfound flooding apathy, he realized this mistake and stopped.

Arm in hand, he let go of it and heard it thud into the floor. He kept his one hand on the woman's shoulder and moved his now empty hand to the woman's head.

Pain rushed through the two, one fake, one real. If Cain wasn't already resistant to such a feeling, with the woman's pain influxing with his own, he might've dropped to the floor in agony.

Using his unnatural strength, the woman's head easily popped off like a cork. Blood spewed and dripped while part of the woman's spine dangled to the floor, still attached to her head with sinews of flesh hanging like ribbons.

Again, Cain had died. Again, he lost his emotion, his humanity. The sickening ritual was almost complete.

Tumbling into the room, the Organization's traitor held his daughter's corpse. His mind finally clicked, but it had also crumbled. All that was left was insanity.

All Cain felt from the man was madness.

In the madness, Cain felt emotions he knew all too well. He could feel everything die in that man; his world was gone and taken in almost an instant. He could do nothing in the face of it; he was weak and couldn't do anything to change it.

Even Cain, who once survived such an experience, still didn't have the ability to change his fate either, the fate of forever losing everything dear to him.

Unfortunately, this man would never get the chance to survive like Cain did.

The man's flesh bubbled as blisters formed and popped. The target was forced still by an unknown influence and had to watch as his blood covered his eyes and his body went through tremendous torment.

Cain too felt that misery.

Eventually, Cain stopped feeling the pain; he stopped feeling any emotions.

He had died again.

...

Seven times. After the first house, Cain had seven other targets he eliminated one by one. Some lived by themselves; some had pets or lovers. Some had families they spent every ounce of their being supporting.

They all died, and Cain died just as many times.

He no longer felt their emotions; he no longer felt their pain.

He was numb, numb to humanity, of living, yet he continued to do just that. He was hollow, but now was the time to fill the hollowness with something more.

'Everything is the same. In the end, I am left with nothing. I have lost everything once more; I am nothing at all.'

He looked up at the sky. Unlike most days, the three moons were seen clearly, and the giant black dot behind them also had a faint glow.

Cain was no longer the person he was before this operation of his. He was right in his fears; he was no longer the same; the one that remained was him but also different.

'All that remains, is my goal. All that remains... is my Freedom.'