Victor felt his thoughts fragmenting, his consciousness slipping as memories that were not his own clawed at his sanity.
Screams.
Fire.
The desperate cries of unborn lives extinguished before they ever saw the sky.
Victor cried out, clutching his head as his Nascent Soul flickered violently. It's glow dimmed under the overwhelming pressure. His vision blurred as his mental battlefield shook.
'I'm losing…'
He knew it instinctively.
The bond was failing.
The corrupt entity's hatred was deeper than he had imagined... deeper than reason, deeper than logic, deeper even than vengeance. It wasn't simply rage; it was an identity forged from suffering. To strip it away meant stripping away the very thing that defined its existence.
The entity's voice thundered through Victor's mind.
"You cannot contain me," it roared. "Your compassion is weakness. Your mercy is an insult to the dead!"
