No fulfillment. Wealth didn't make him feel alive. Power didn't quiet the storm inside him. Authority feared him, yes, but fear wasn't loyalty, and respect born out of terror was nothing more than another form of isolation.
He had everything he once thought he wanted… and still felt completely hollow.
It was only after reaching the peak that he finally understood, power and wealth were just another illusion. Empty rewards that couldn't mend a broken soul. So instead of chasing more, he began to change himself.
He started picking up souls like his own, lost, wounded, and drifting in the shadows of alleys, slums, and forgotten corners of the world. He could spot them instantly. They all carried the same aura, like broken, wounded beasts lashing out at anything that came too close.
Hostile not out of cruelty, but out of defense. Isolation had become their shield, a choice born from the fear of betrayal… or worse, abandonment.
