Qualities that Kill

Chapter 5- Lyra

I'll admit, this one is taking a bit longer to break. He has a strong fighting spirit. I hope that's what I inherit from him, even though I am already almost as strong mentally and physically as is possible.

The man screams again as I shove my knife into his leg, the sound music to my ears. I know I have to hurry and finish with him before others come, but I'm just having so much fun. His blood oozes out of the various wounds that I have given him, dripping to the floor and turning it a brilliant red color. It's an art, torture, and something that I inherited from a man that I disposed of after he practiced the art on me. I still bear scars from those days long ago. It's still a mystery to me how I managed to survive that much blood loss and stress on my body.

"Are you ready to beg yet?" I ask the man, stepping back to assess the damage I have afflicted to his body, and smile when I see how well I did. The skin of his arms hangs in strips, blood flowing freely out of them, and all of his fingers are broken. There are several gaping knife wounds in his legs, and some of his toes are missing. I'm really surprised that he hasn't passed out yet.

His face contorted in pain, he manages to get out, "I... will... never... beg... to... you."

"Well, I'll just have to kill you even slower, then. Get to know you even better," I say, picking up my knife again. "Tell me, are you a compassionate person? Because if that's your Quality, I will leave you to die, without any more of my help. I don't want any  compassion in my life."

"I'm... not telling... you... anything," he says, struggling to get the words out.

"Pity," I reply, running my fingertip along the edge of my knife, admiring its shine. "I could have made it a lot quicker for you."

I advance towards him, excitedly anticipating the feeling of blood on my hands and the sweet sound of his screams, when I hear a footsteps behind me, then a voice.

"What's going on here?"

Moving quickly, I slash my knife across my torture subject's throat, ending his suffering, and turn to face the speaker. As I do so, I pay close attention to myself, attentive for any sign of what my victim's Quality was.

When I am facing the man, I take in his features, analyzing him to see if he is a Quality Thief, like me. A majority of the time, people who kill others for their Qualities are unnaturally good-looking. This man is definitely one. He has short light brown hair, a sharp jawline, and sky blue eyes. He has kind of a rugged beauty. And as I am analyzing him, he does the exact same thing to me. Sizing me up to see what kind of a person I am. I doubt he will be successful. I hide my true self well.

His eyes flicker to the mutilated corpse behind me, and I am slightly amused to see that he looks disgusted. Why come in and confront me about it if you can't even handle the sight of it?

He focuses back on me and repeats, "What's going on?"

"Oh, we were just having a little fun," I tell him and smile, hoping he will just leave me alone and mind his own business.

However, I have no such luck. "Yeah, it looks like it. You and this bloody corpse seemed to be just having the time of your lives over here when I walked in. I could tell by the screams how much fun it was."

"Okay, I don't know what you want from me, so if you don't mind, I need to go. I have stuff to do," I say, now getting annoyed.

"What, like going to track down and murder some more innocents? The only thing I want is justice. That and to put a stop to all the pillaging and murdering going on."

"Oh, so you're one of those people who wants the world to go back to normal? Well, sorry to crush your dreams, but it isn't going to happen. The reason they kill is to become more powerful. They won't stop until everyone is gone and they have stolen every single Quality," I tell him.

"You talk about the murderers like you aren't one of them. Like you wouldn't do anything and everything to get more power, but you would, and you are just as bad as all the rest. In fact, you'll probably kill me just for the fun of it."

I scoff. "You think I want power? You think me like the others? You have it all wrong. I kill for revenge. What do I owe to the world? The only thing it has done is cause me pain. When I was seven, I watched as my parents were killed by a Quality Thief while trying to protect me. I spent the next three years on my own, starving and just trying to survive out there. Finally, I found someone I thought I could trust, who became like a father to me. Then, as if I didn't already suffer enough, he betrayed me, sold me to a man like I was nothing more than property. The man made me work for him, practiced his torture methods on me, chained me to a post so I couldn't run away. I changed the night I gained my freedom by murdering my captor. The world deserves to suffer for what it has done to me, along with all the people in it who stood by and didn't help. And so I make them suffer.

"Not to mention the fact that you come barging in here, acting all high and mighty like you are somehow better than I am. All you are is a hypocrite. You have killed just as many people as I have, if not more. And before you make your claims that you were killing to 'make the world a better place,' to eliminate the Quality Thieves, tell me, who have you lost to a murderer? You wouldn't care less about the people I've murdered if you didn't lose someone yourself. You want revenge, too. So either you leave me alone, or stay here seeking your justice and die," I finish, staring him straight in the eye. I was rambling, I realize. Saying whatever came to mind. That must have been the dead man's Quality: honesty.

The man standing in front of me returns my stare, a deep sadness in his eyes. "It was my little sister," he mumbles, then, his voice stronger, says, "She was a good person who didn't deserve to die. But you do. You need to pay for all the pain you've caused. I will not leave, so I guess you're going to kill me. Then at least I'll die fighting for justice."

"I'm sorry about your sister," I murmur, genuine for once in my life. I understand what it's like to feel loss. "I'm sure you're right, she was a good person. But you were wrong about one thing. I'm not going to kill you," I say.

Hope floods his features, and I smile at him before whistling sharply.

"He is," I explain as Altius leaps towards him and sinks his teeth into the man's throat.