[center][h3][url=https://youtu.be/rZSh9zKeI-s]Times are looking grim these days.[/url][/h3][/center]

What was the point of it all? Aberrant thoughts began to take over as Aldaric Felbane of the Deathwatch passed into the final room. Explosions and bolterfire were all around him, as they always were. Blood and blades and flashes of grotesque xeno faces surrounded him in every direction, and they were always there. This was his life. He was a machine, a construct, and this was all he had to look forward to forevermore, until his certain death. Sheer battle, one after another. They were no different from each other. And he would be used like this, his life itself meaningless, forgotten by the species he served to protect. Had he ever been human? Was he valued now any more than a bolter or stormshield? No. It didn't even matter that he had a name. He was no one, and there was no point in continuing, no reason to fight endlessly... but probability demanded that an end would eventually come. So why not now? Death was the solution to pointlessness. Death meant that all of this would finally be over. The only true freedom was in letting go of the false hope that now guided his blade. 

Arcs devoid of emotion, devoid of fear, and feeling nothing of pain. Mentally numb, Aldaric swung his powersword over and over. He didn't even know why he was bothering, for all willpower had been sapped from him. It was mindless training alone that function in the shell of his body... all that was left. Maybe, just maybe, there was some reason, some reward for victory here this day, or ever any day. Aldaric could no longer hear his allies. All was silence as he fought with boring repetitive strikes. No chaplain's voice, no recognition from him squadmates. Nothing was exciting, or worth it anymore, and his deepest most primal instinct to survive was giving out. 

Aldaric stopped swinging.