The world had become one point of unbearable pain. Greg held Hilda's body, which felt both too heavy and too light, and something inside him broke.
Not broken cleanly or suddenly, but cracked like glass does when pressure builds over time until the structure can't hold anymore and everything breaks at once. Sadness came through the cracks.
Then came guilt. Then anger. The rage came last, but it was the strongest. It came from somewhere deep and primal that Greg had been trying to hide for his whole second life.
It was the Warhammer Saint's anger, forty years of making death into pure destruction. He thought he had left that person behind when he died and came back to life. He was mistaken.
"No... no, no, no..." The words came out broken, barely more than a whisper.
Greg's arms tightened around Hilda, as if holding her closer could somehow change what had already transpired. "Not like this...! Please! NOT LIKE THIS...!!!"
