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He awoke.
        Lying on his side, tired breaths heaved unevenly. His body sprawled carelessly across his floor.

        At first he did not register the thick scent of metallic gore. No, first he had to drearily blink away sleep, and draw a limp hand over his eyes.
        What first irked the Overlord was the fresh wetness his hand has left across his closed eye. Slowly, Tanaka drew his hand in front of his face. Then his eyes widened.
        The hand was generously coated in rose, ill-smelling liquid. It did not take long for Gundham to realize what it was. ...What blood stains my hands?
Sitting up in a hurried, fluid urgency, Gundham quietly took in his surroundings.

        The blood was not only on his hands, but across the floorboards, splattered on the walls, littering every corner of his home.

        Immediately forcing himself to his feet, Gundham adopted a withdrawn posture, unbecoming of himself. For as much as he boasted, he had not quite been prepared to be immediately met by the sight and the stench of thoughtless murder.

        And there - upon the ground. That was a person. No. Part of a person. More parts lay around it.

        Gundham desperately grabbed at his scarf, seeking to comfort, and perhaps be comforted, by his Feared Four Dark Devas of Destruction. With a sudden shock, the Breeder realized his companions were absent from his safety.  By the Gods. What ill-natured curse had befallen me!? Who causes this bloody spectacle!?

Then it clicked. ...I did. It struck him harshly, elaboratory memories returning to him within moments. ...This is my dark crusade... this is my parade of despair. I have committed these deeds. He'd never intended to kill. ...But why? He'd never wanted this, for as much as he'd boasted. His body felt sick. He was sick.
        He wanted to hide from it all. Coward. But how? But why?
        "-My Devas? Where is it that you seek refuge?" They were hiding from him. He remembered that now.
        His closest companions, afraid of him. Afraid of what he had done. Why?
None of it made any sense. A riddle written in carcasses.

        Quickly ducking behind the couch, he found his Dark Devas huddled in a fearful clump, recoiling at his initial entrance into their view. Gundham quietly sat upon his knees. "My feared Four Dark Devas of Destruction..." he began, voice soothing in its low pitch, desperate to ease the troubled minds of his hamsters, "be not afraid. I assure you, I shan't bring you harm." Moving slowly, as not to frighten them off, the Overlord of Ice quietly scooped the four hamsters into his blood-stained palms. Having a quick seat, his back resting against the sofa, he held the trembling rodents against his chest.
        "All shall be well... I shan't harm you. My apologies, my greatest apologies..." He'd have to collect his other animals soon. He had to repair what he'd done.
        Though, a pestilence persistently boggled his thoughts. His animals, scared of him. The disturbance of his sins. His initial cowardice. The knowledge of the terrible things he'd done under the seduction of despair. He'd been enthralled.
        But why did he yearn for the continuation of the feeling?

        Gundham Tanaka was awake again - so why did he long to suffer more? Why did his guilt bring a sudden rush of ecstasy?
        The more he tried to shake the craving, the stronger it became. A monster that fed on fear.

        Running a cold, shaking hand over his Devas to warm them, Gundham stared, mouth gaped slightly, eyes somewhat absent, at his door.

        Once bitten, he was infected. Every urge within him told him to exit his homestead again, and inflict even more despair than he had before.
        His primal whisperings longed for carnage.
        Perhaps if he were to squeeze the life from his Devas, just as they grew to trust him-

        "-Ghh." Using will alone, Gundham disconnected his instincts from his reality. At least for the time being.

        What terrible hellbeast do I become? Why do I yearn to readily for unspeakable deeds? For as much as Gundham boasted his status as an underworld creature, he had never been prepared for the shattering guilt he'd woken up to.
        The knowledge of what he'd become so easily to hypnotic suggestion.
        He could cry, but that would only feed his yearning with satisfaction. To put out the raging fire of his enslaved soul using gasoline. Unwise.
        Unwise. And weak. He would not succumb to weakness. I shan't be weak. I shan't be weak!

        So he held his Devas closer, and closer still. He still could not meet their gazes as they began to murmur assurances and questions to him.
        "My apologies," was his only answer, voice hushing into a lull of uneasiness. "M-My apologies."

        He'd stuttered. He was already so weak. He'd expected more from himself.

        But with the willpower he had left, he would stop himself. He could not allow himself to continue his devious raid against whoever crossed his path.
        This shan't stand.
If he was to be a danger, then he would have to stop himself.

        Isolation has always been a friend. If he had to hide himself from the world in order to save it, then it was a price he was willing to pay.

        To silence the whispering of despair, he would cage himself and his demons.

        Quietly placing his devas back down, Gundham stumbled to his feet again. Taking care not to allow his blood-caked boots to slip upon the floor's paint of gore, he made haste.

        He had to act quickly, for at any second he could break.

        I shall never give in to despair! I shan't ever become what our tyrannical mistress intends!
        How long could he last? He didn't know.

        But if he had any honor left, then he knew it was his duty to stop himself.
        And with that, Gundham Tanaka locked he and his despair away into a makeshift prison of his own design.

        I shan't ever succumb. Or my name is not Gundham Tanaka!