What makes a human?
Is it intelligence? The ability to speak?
No... elves speak. Dwarves speak. Beasts, even dragons—some of them hold conversations clearer than men. So that can't be it.
Maybe it's not what we have—but what we carry.
Pain. Hate. Jealousy. Greed. Lust. Every twisted thought, every emotion we'd rather bury—those are what make us human. We are creatures who wish. We desire. We're never satisfied, never still. We crawl forward with blood on our hands, asking for more.
If every need was met, maybe we wouldn't be this way.
Maybe we'd be kind. Gentle.
But we aren't. Because the world isn't.
And yet... even with that darkness—there's more.
Humans are fragile. We break. We cry. But we keep going.
Some give up. That's true. But some don't. Some take one more step, even when it hurts.
We pity because we feel. We empathize because we've bled too.
From far away, humanity is ugly. But you can't judge a painting from a distance.
Get close. See the strokes. See the pain, the subtle kindness hidden beneath each smear of red.
That's where the truth is.
Shalap couldn't see that.
She wasn't human.
A program experiment—that's what she was. But Sinus didn't know that. He only saw her as another person. Another soul to calm, someone afraid.
She remembered the lab. Her 'siblings'—if they could be called that—beasts born of fused DNA, twisted hybrids of animal and human. None of them survived. She couldn't save them.
She had run away.
The temple had given her peace. A sanctuary.
Until she saw him.
The man from the lab.
He was in the temple.
That was the day she fled again.
She had no family. None that spoke to her. At the temple, she had hoped... but hope had a cost. What if she was taken back? What if they came for her?
And now—here she was. Standing on the line.
One step forward, and she would be a murderer.
One step back, and she would be an outcast forever.
Life or morals?
Humans choose life.
But she wasn't human.
What she didn't know was—
Some humans choose differently.
That's what she saw in Sinus.
Gars, despite all his harshness, understood. He gave her a chance.
She stood. Her body trembled. Her gaze moved to Sinus, who raised his gun and shot the disfigured humans. Her brothers. Her sisters. Her regrets.
And then she screamed.
A scream that ripped through the air like thunder. Sinus flinched, covering his ears just in time.
Her scream didn't hit him—but it tore through the disfigured creatures like paper.
They burst. They collapsed. They stopped moving.
And still—she wasn't done.
She screamed again. Knife in hand. She moved through the remains, tears falling, cutting—cutting—cutting—
Not for revenge.
Not for justice.
Just to survive.
Her hands wouldn't stop. Her mind was blank. Until—
A hand stopped her.
Sinus.
His ears bled.
Still, he held her hand.
He hugged her, tightly.
"It's alright," he whispered. "They are saved now... you put them away from suffering. You did well."
She broke in his arms. She cried. And in that moment, she knew:
She was a murderer. And she would carry that name.
But she was no longer alone.
Later, Gars stepped out. She had calmed down, asleep in Sinus's embrace. He carried her on his back, slowly, gently.
Gars watched. "She killed them?" he asked.
"Yea..." Sinus said softly.
"WHAT?"
"Yea she did," Sinus repeated, smiling faintly.
"WHAT? SPEAK LOUDER, SINUS!"
Sinus blinked. Gars's ears were bleeding too. From her scream.
Behind them, Phantom limped, bruised, battered—dragged by Gars like a sack of trash.
"Well, there you go," Phantom muttered with a dry chuckle, blood trailing down his lips. "Now your buddy is fucking deaf."
Gars didn't respond. He just kept walking, dragging Phantom along.
"Let's just go."