"I will." I nod, plastering a smile on my face.

Ze steps back, leaving Sergio to me.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to calm myself. I palm the dagger he gifted me, feeling the coldness of the steel against my flesh.

This is it. My chance to get my precious revenge.

"You destroyed me. But not anymore. I'm putting myself back together," I declare before I throw myself forward, pushing the knife into his chest.

The advantage of already being dead is that he will not die again, but he'll feel pain. Every. Single. Time.

I remove my knife, only to bring it back against his flesh, stabbing repeatedly and closing my eyes as I listen to the music that is his cries of pain. He groans and moans, crying out and begging me to stop. But I don't. He hadn't stopped when I begged him either. I keep stabbing him until his body looks like a torn canvas, ripped to shreds, with frayed edges and bits of pieces strewn onto the ground.

My breathing becomes labored, my own body aching from the effort of my blows. I hit and hit until his throat is too raw to scream, his pain too profound to be uttered aloud.

Leaning back, I admire my handiwork. A boost of confidence surges through my veins as I see our roles reversed. No longer am I the victim. No longer am I the one in pain.

All those years of dreaming of what I would do to him have finally materialized.

But as the adrenaline wears off, I slowly realize that I'm not any more fulfilled than I was before. Sure, I got to confront my biggest enemy. But seeing him like this—knowing that this is what awaits him for the rest of time—my hate for him dims a little. Not because I feel vindicated, but because I finally see him for what he really is.

A man.

Just a man, and not the god he'd claimed to be.

A pitiful man.

He is dead, in hell.

I am alive and well.

I have won by default.

"I think I'm done," I say as I look back at Ze. He's leaning against the entrance to the gallery, one leg propped against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest, his attention riveted on me.

"May I have my turn now?" he asks, slowly coming closer.

"Your turn?" I blink in surprise.

"You have had your revenge. Now it is my turn."

I don't get to answer as he withdraws his sword, placing his thumb at the tip and allowing the blade to nick his finger. Blood flows down onto the ridges of the blade, and with one smooth strike, he cuts Sergio in two—vertically.