Lein watched as the FBS soldiers mercilessly killed civilians. It didn't matter to them — whether it was a woman, a white-haired old man, or a child who had already lost their parents.
«Damn… Bastards… If I were at full strength — I'd tear them apart…»
Lein wanted to intervene.
To be a fighter of justice, to punish the villains…
«I…»
But first and foremost, he was selfish.
A selfish man who wouldn't risk himself without a good reason.
These people — they were nothing to him.
Ordinary.
Weak.
Those who would die anyway: from old age, illness… or by someone else's hand.
Death.
Wherever Lein looked, he saw death.
When did it start?
With the appearance of the Story?
With gaining uniqueness?
With ascending on the path?..
Or had he always been like this?
«Perhaps… I've always been like this. But… so what?»
Lein turned away from the slaughter before him.
He preferred to remain himself.
Suddenly, a loud female voice rang out — too familiar to be mistaken.
