Thomas followed him out. As he passed the door, he looked back at Hans. "That's just his temperament. Don't take it to heart."
Hans shook his head.
"I'm not bothered. I'm just afraid he's underestimating the enemy and will die too quickly."
Martin did not join their conversation.
He had been staring at another image on the screen.
The image showed a concentration camp.
Barbed wire enclosed a vast open area packed with people. They were so thin that only bones remained, dressed in rags with black collars around their necks.
The collars emitted a dark red glow, as if they were drawing something out of them.
Angel overseers stood on high ground, energy whips in hand. Every strike left a scorched mark on a person's body.
Anyone who collapsed was dragged away and tossed aside. No one spoke. No one cried. They merely lowered their heads like livestock waiting to die.
Martin's fingers trembled. "Those collars... are they draining their life energy?"
Hans nodded.
"More precisely, soul energy. It works on roughly the same principle as Metatron's knife, but this is gradual, drawn out over time until they die. A normal person can last about three years."
"Three years?"
"Three years, then they turn into mummies. Even their bones become brittle."
The room fell silent for several seconds.
Elena entered from the corridor, her crystalline hair refracting a faint blue light beneath the lamps.
She stared at the concentration camp on the screen for a long time. "Are there any of our counterparts among those people?"
Hans brought up another set of data.
"Yes. That world has an Earth too, and humans, and demon hunters. But ninety-nine percent of them are dead."
That naturally included the counterparts of Sam and Dean.
Elena's crystalline hair drifted gently. "Dead?"
"Dead. In