Ne’ik stormed out of the room. No. No, no, no, no, no! No. It can’t… no! The Mystics… they took everything from me. It’s their fault! They need to pay. He laughed. Why was he laughing? He made a fist with his right hand, connecting it with the wall. The recoil sent a shudder of pain through his body. He punched the wall again, and again, and again… This is my fault… I’m sorry, Arekon… I’m so sorry…