As I looked down at the Sethrak writhing on the ground, my mind returned to those images etched into the cold walls of the ruin, to that tragic story.
A child abandoned by his family, branded as cursed from the moment of his birth. He had been condemned to a fate he never wanted, never even granted the chance to choose.
He had not chosen to become a monster. And yet, he had been treated as one his entire life. A vile creature. A stain on his family's honorable name.
Involuntarily, I saw myself in that bloody, helpless form. That ostracism, that hatred... it had left deep scars on my own soul as well.
I gripped my katana tightly. I knew one strike was all it would take. One strike to end it all. One strike to end his suffering. And... one strike to claim his powerful abilities.
But I couldn't do it. My blade remained suspended in the air.
