Memories were flooding his mind one after the other, and the images he saw were increasing the darkness, hatred and rage in his heart with each passing second.
He really couldn't stand it anymore.
Each memory he passed one after another, each place he saw, each friend he lost, and hundreds of moments when his joy faded...Hundreds of days when he lost his feelings...
When the dark figure enveloped him one last time, and the image around Atlas changed once more, it was now in a completely different direction.
Atlas knew exactly who the woman standing dead in front of him was.
The woman sitting on a chair with her head fallen forward. The image that Atlas had never forgotten and even refused to forget.
The image that he realised he was being used by humans and lived in the last month before he died.
The time when the woman he loved died.
