An Illusion

Dimon looked at his own hands, now covered in blood. He felt as if a fist of lave has made its way to his internals, burning them away. He was in so much pain that he could barely listen to the words this young man said.

"Although I find no reason that excuses this mass murder, I can't help but wonder about the reason such a vile human exists."

He heard the boy's righteous words, and he felt even more nauseous at the self-righteousness he must be feeling. However, whatever was inside him rocked havoc as if a wild beast has been unleashed.

"What… What's happening to me!" He finally managed to bellow at the masked man, wishing to rip him apart. However, what greeted him back was simply two golden, freezingly cold, eyes. He almost had an identity crisis thinking himself to be an insect because of the way the man looked at him with disgust.

"What I gave you earlier was healing water for sure, but I also mixed some poison within."