Alzheimer's Disease.
Or rather, a disease that was difficult for anyone to avoid in old age. It robbed you of your cognitive abilities, made you gradually forget everything in your past, and let you escape the guilt of the crimes you had committed.
His body was withered, his face so old that its wrinkles resembled cooled lava. His eyes were murky pools of dirty water, without a trace of light.
Time itself seemed to freeze at that moment.
The wind outside whipped through Blood Cloak's long hair. Her eyes were filled with an unreadable desolation, and she stood as straight as a dead woman.
The old man opened his mouth in bewilderment, his voice so aged that his words were barely intelligible.
"Did I kill someone..."
He had forgotten.
He had forgotten everything.
The Flesh God Cult had not granted him eternal life, and time was so absurd-so absurd that it had freed the abuser from the torment of guilt. Now, you could not even make him admit his crimes!
How utterly absurd. What a cruel twist of fate!
Blood Cloak suddenly laughed.
Her laughter was unbearably bleak.
"You don't even recognize me. You don't even know what crimes you committed..."
In an instant.
Those sharp, black nails stabbed toward the space between the old man's brows.
Instinctive terror crossed his face. His aged fingers clenched the wheelchair's armrests, and his trembling lips opened and closed uncontrollably. His eyes were filled with an old man's fear.
But it was only the fear of death, the terror of a life about to end.
Beyond that.
There was nothing.
If he truly remembered everything, she would have tortured him to death, made him kneel before her and repent over and over. But now, she could not even fulfill that insignificant wish.
And