The lab was covered by an absolute silence.
The flashing red emergency lights made the scene look bloody with pulsing bright spots. The psychic scream was gone. The win felt empty. It felt wrong. They hadn't beaten a monster. They had killed someone who was suffering.
Draven stood over the spot where Subject Alpha had dissolved. His massive greatsword was covered in a nasty, dark stain. He didn't dismiss his weapon. Instead, he just stood there, his heavy shoulders slumped. With slow, steady movements, he pulled a cleaning cloth from a pouch on his belt and began to wipe the blade. He worked in a grim, focused silence, his face showing no feelings. There was no glory in this kill.
