Yarin's POV:
Karter seemed very calm, unafraid of death, and not resisting, just sitting there, lost in thought, staring at a plate of moldy food.
"Linda is dead? —that's a silly question. She must be dead, and a gruesome death at that," he muttered. "Anyone who believed in Azazel met a bad end. The gifts of fate come with a price, and the more you enjoy them, the heavier the price you eventually pay..."
I drew my sword, speaking coldly, "Even without Azazel, wouldn't you continue to do evil? You'd join the mafia, become a thug, a pimp, a drug dealer, a money launderer. Evil is in your bones. It didn't arise because of evil power; it feeds on it."
"You're right, I'm a bad person. Even if I hadn't joined the Lily of the Valley, I would have done all the things I did. You know, when I was eight, I wished to rob a bank, and at fourteen, I wished to rob a bank and kill everyone at the scene so no one could recognize me."
Karter chuckled.
"I'm a scoundrel, and I must admit that I enjoy this life of wickedness. I like to dominate others, to see them kneel at my feet. Azazel helped me achieve that, so I believe in him."
He looked at the sword in my hand, and the cold silver light reflected an unusually bright line on his face. That line crossed his forehead like an alignment guide.
"I've never regretted this evil life. In fact, am I not living more freely than most people? I do whatever I want and can kill anyone who crosses me. I don't need to care about any rules, nobody can control me. I'm more liberated than a king."
Heller scoffed, "But that doesn't change the fact that you're just a dog, not to mention Azazel, even Linda could discipline you anytime, like kicking a stray dog."
The conflict outside intensified, and the rolling door was occasionally struck, making a clanging noise. Gunshots rang out, escalating the chaos. Followed by angry curses and screams. A hint of blood drifted in through the crack in the door. It seemed like someone had paid the price for their momentary fervor.
"Look at those b*stards, these street thugs just started a fight, why use guns?" Karter commented with the tone of someone experienced. "I guess I'm getting old. When I was young, street fights still involved knives and axes. Now, it's the era of guns. Bullets don't discriminate; if someone dies, the two gangs won't be able to make amends. No wonder the border city never had a powerful gang; it's just a bunch of novices."
"You should be more concerned about yourself."
With a flash of cold light, two swords were pointed at Karter's neck.
"Your time has come. If you have any last words, say them now."
Karter thought for a moment and said, "Last words? No, we fugitives never deigned to leave last words. When we die, we die; there's nothing to fear."
"Is that so?"
Heller and I exchanged glances and sheathed our swords.
I said, "Isn't this the era of 'humanitarianism'? Even death row inmates get to leave some last words. Since you don't have any, we can't just kill you like this; that wouldn't be very 'humane.""
I looked toward the kitchen, and the door was pushed open. Aunt Dorothy and several werewolf grandmasters appeared.
"You'll be taken to prison, and we'll execute you when the day comes that you want to leave a final message."
In Karter's bewildered gaze, the werewolf grandmasters approached him and began inscribing runes on his skin.
"Regular prisons are too boring, and it's hard to confine you there. I don't want to trouble myself. Which philosopher said, 'The body is the prison of the soul'? It inspired me. It's most fitting for you to use your body as your prison."
Karter finally realized the hidden meaning in my words and asked cautiously, "What do you mean? Turning me into a thoughtless fool? Or a vegetable?"
"No, no, why would I bother the werewolf grandmasters with that? We could just perform a frontal lobotomy on you."
The werewolf grandmasters worked quickly, and Karter's skin was covered in dark green runes in no time.
"These runes will make you dream," Aunt Dorothy said. "The dreams will be based on your experiences, from when you were fifteen until now.
"Over these years, how many people have you killed? How many have you harmed? You'll have to relive all the pain they experienced. Whether it's death, torture, rape, or murder, everything you've done will be returned to you in your dreams. And these dreams won't be a one-time thing. You'll experience them over and over again, either until you wake up or until your soul dissipates from the torment, and everything will end."
Karter began to panic. Like a mad bull charging, he struggled fiercely, but the runes bound his body. He tried to say something, but the runes tightly wrapped his tongue and throat, and he couldn't make a sound.
He finally started to despair.
"Don't forget to think about your last words," I said. "Goodnight, and sweet dreams."