"You know, actually, I am a very delicate man. Pain, blood, violence, fighting... All of that has long since become repulsive to me. I have changed both my faith and my approach. I hope you will accept my choice too, little pig," said the old man.
At first, he didn't notice it, but on the old man's belt, along with a holster, spare ammo, and a couple of modern grenades, there was a small bag.
Before starting, the old man talked at length about this thing. Something about the ashes of some supernatural creature or a secret development... Even if he tried, he wouldn't have been able to understand any of it. His condition clearly did not allow it. It was unlikely that anyone could even call what was left of him alive.
But anyway, the old man poured a pinch of black particles onto his hand and blew them right into his face.
"...?!"
Only then did it dawn on him that it was some kind of mind-controlling drug.
...
While the old man played with his little beast, the woman and the man stood aside.
"You noticed it too, right? That symbol, the dual appearance... If I were born in Southville, and everyone like him must be from there... I could say that this is the first time I've met a person without a neodeck chip in their head. They put them in everyone when they're babies, but this champion has nothing like that." The man narrowed his eyes and took a closer look at the man suffering in the chair. "And his file, rating, or at least his face, is not in the database or catalog. How is that possible?"
"It's not. It's impossible," the woman replied simply.
"...And what are we going to do?" the man asked cautiously.
"Get answers."
"..." The man didn't dare ask any more questions.
He could pay dearly for doubting his boss's competence, so he continued watching the interrogation game in silence.
...
He did not lose consciousness and did not observe everything from the outside. The process was also not like transferring control over his mind, thoughts, and body.
It was like diving and swimming underwater.
He moved through hundreds of different scenes, and although some seemed unfamiliar, they were his memories. He blended into them and relived them, even though everything felt very blurry, just like underwater.
Here he is playing with his father.
Here he is looking at the sky, imagining himself flying among the stars.
Here he is crying...
Here he is petting a cat.
Here he is, hearing the terrifying beep of hospital machines.
Finally, he did...
The memories were not connected by a single chain and appeared chaotically.
"Hah... If you are a villain, what is the most evil thing you've ever done, little pig?" the old man playing with his consciousness asked another question.
Sometimes he wondered... After crossing what line is a person considered a villain?
Murder? Perhaps.
But even such a cruel thing can have a righteous motive. Thus, someone could certainly assess murder with good intentions as a less evil act compared to something else.
If evil can be compared, doesn't that mean that villains can be classified according to the degree of their evil deeds? From bad to the most terrible.
Then... who would be at the top of this villainous pyramid?
"Killing... I killed," his consciousness croaked out the answer.
"Piggy, but I don't see anything villainous in that. Almost every creature has killed at some point. A cow eats grass, one life feeding on another. A man kills a cow to eat it, and another man will kill him and take the meat. To fill your belly. To take. To keep. Survival... Satisfaction of needs, profit, and thousands of other reasons. So which one was yours, little pig?
And only after finding a new life did he find the answer.
He clearly understood what kind of person would be at the very top.
"...No reason. I killed for no reason."
Someone who committed murder without any motive. For no reason. That was the kind of villain he found most repulsive.
Simply because he didn't care.
"Ho-ho, now that sounds villainous. And how many innocent people have you killed just like that, piggy? One?
"...No."
"Ten?"
"...No."
"Then name the number."
He who has lost all hope has also lost all fear. When there's nothing left to wish for... There is nothing left to be afraid of.
That's when a person becomes most dangerous.
Not because they hate life. But because it no longer holds them.
Because life is no longer able to hold them back.
This fact played a cruel joke on the one who was given the chance to realize the horror of his action.
"Thousands. I killed thousands... Just because I didn't care anymore."
"…" At that moment, even the old man was lost for words, and the smile on his face faded.
After a while, he cleared his throat and began asking only about his stay in the Pit.
The subject of the murders was never brought up again.
…
Finally, the interrogation was over, and the answers clearly displeased the woman and the man behind him.
However, the mustached old man's face showed very different emotions.
"Interesting... How interesting!" the old man blurted out with strange excitement.
"..."
"..."
"Miss Boss, you heard what the little pig said about killing people, right? He's clearly not that simple. Maybe we can take him with us?"
"Denied. There's nothing to get out of him. Our senior comrade finished off the other 7, but for some unknown reason, he missed this one. In case of failure, there should be no witnesses left… We have to clean up the remains. You have 20 seconds, Dum. End this vegetable."
"What a pity. Such a pity..."
However, despite the refusal, a smile still played on the old man's face. It seemed that he was satisfied with this outcome.
"..." The same couldn't be said for the prisoner.
You couldn't even call him alive anymore.
He was destroyed. Trampled. Deprived of his sanity and subjected to inhuman suffering... But perhaps he deserved even that.
From the very beginning of his new life, he suffered, feared, ran away, and suffered again.
Was it possible that such punishment was even slightly sufficient?
"Hey, hey, piggy, look here. See? This is my old revolver... and there's only one bullet in it."
Had he finally earned the right to put that bullet in his own forehead?
Yes, maybe so. It's unlikely that anyone would have condemned him.
It was all over, and he no longer had to fight. There was no point in it anymore...
There had never been any point in it.
'Son... please listen to me one last time.'
"Little pig, listen to me. You don't want to live anymore, remember?"
The voice of the old man, twisting his mind, blended with the dying voice of his mother. One of the last and most important scenes in his remaining memories.
'I know you did everything for us. You climbed higher and higher and never backed down... Even when maybe you should've.'
"Anyone who falls into the Pit must never escape... That is the rule."
'You climbed to the very top... And here's what I want to say.'
"You turned out not to be who we thought you were, and that's why I'm giving you a choice."
'Never look back. Strive only upward, no matter what... As you always dreamed.'
"You can clash with supernatural monsters with one bullet... Or you can end it all with one shot. Don't drag it out. Just pull the trigger."
The old man cut the steel thread on his legs and arms.
His body swayed noticeably, and he fell face down, his lips bleeding.
By this time, the woman and the man had opened the door, and rays of sunlight finally penetrated the dark hut.
The old man helped him up and snapped his fingers in front of his face.
"Damn, he can't even stand. Haa... Here, piggy. I've outgrown it. Frankly, I'm no longer qualified to use it. Consider this an apology for my mistake." The old man thrust an unusual revolver into his palm and smiled radiantly. "Let's move on, okay? It's time for you to go to the other world, don't you agree?"
There was not a trace of remorse in his words.
"..." Mr. Nobody nodded mechanically, barely able to hold up his head.
"That's right, pig-faced kid," the old man replied contentedly, patting him on the cheek.
"Time's up, Dum," the woman said and went outside with the other man.
As if nothing had happened. Without a single regret or a drop of guilt for what they had done to the innocent prisoner.
The smiling old man stood up with the rest of the team.
Meanwhile, the man known as Mr. Nobody just stared at the revolver in his hand.
However, it seemed that he was not looking at the weapon at all.
What is the line between a good person and an evil one?
What is this line?
"It was nice to meet you," the old man said with a smile and walked to the exit in high spirits.
It was the moment when nothing made sense anymore. He had endured enough and could end it all right now. Just as he wanted.
It was the moment when time stood still.
*Click* He cocked the revolver.
From the very beginning, all he did was run away, cry... and squeal. Just like a true pig.
This old man really did consider him nothing more than a dirty little pig and treated him accordingly. Just like a truly frightened and spineless pig.
"..." The old man, who was clearly expecting this sound, paused in anticipation of the shot that was about to ring out behind him. His face looked solemn.
What could be more pleasant than torturing a dirty pig into killing himself? That's probably what he thought...
However, he didn't realize that the little pig behind him had not only cocked the trigger, but also stood up.
He didn't realize that behind him was not a true pig, but... a true person.
'If you gotta kill... Kill."
His mother's last words echoed in his memory as he raised his hand with the revolver.
Violence begets violence. Those who raise a sword will die by it. The one who wreaks havoc will...
That was the line where he crossed into becoming a villain.
When everything was already over and meaningless, he would take up arms and become a colorless, nameless messenger of justice.
And no one would be spared by the havoc of this judgment.
'If you gotta burn it all to the ground…' These were the words she uttered in the last seconds of her life. 'Then let it burn.'
His finger pulled the trigger.
*BOOOMM!!!* A monstrous sound of an explosion rang out from the revolver shot.
Part of the wooden hut in front was simply blown to pieces.
"..." he looked at his hand.
The recoil alone shattered every finger, twisting them at impossible angles.
*Thudd...* Something hit the floor with a wet, viscous sound.
"..." he glanced in the direction of the sound.
Pieces of flesh and organs scattered, and a staggering amount of blood spilled out...
A true waterfall of blood burst out.
And although he had clearly aimed for the head, the old man was missing more than just that. A large part of his heavy torso was now simply gone. There was no doubt about it — the old man who had tortured him was dead.
There was no time left. He moved on.
The one who no longer wanted to live did not kill himself. Instead, he began taking other lives.
Havoc, in its purest form.
The final... Lesson number 6: The one who wreaks havoc… will reap it.