Five had lost track of time. Every part of him hurt; a pulling ache that gradually took up home in his chest and radiated out to his limbs. The gore that covered him made it impossible to take stock of any injuries, and he was long past being able to pinpoint where the pain was coming from. He even thought it was all in his mind at one point. Visions of the apocalypse merged with the present, and he simply wasn't equipped to separate the two realities. Death followed him.

A part of him reveled in the violence, in the efficiency of his kills that by then he could barely distinguish from living or undead. He left them all in pieces scattered in the snow. Somehow they always returned, and the more he tried to separate himself from the group, the more it began to dawn on him that he couldn't keep this up. Exhaustion weighed him down, and the overuse of his powers drained the last of his reserves. They'd catch him sooner or later.

The room he entered seemed to appear out of nowhere; a retreat he didn't remember making. When a voice addressed him, he whipped around and his mouth parted, but nothing came out. A woman with a wand like the one he'd seen hours before. She seemed familiar, and he squinted at her face to try to place her in his memories. And even more important, to make sure she was really there. That she wasn't a threat.

Movement caught his eye and he turned in time to see a corpse bounce off of thin air. He watched in a perplexed moment of fascination as it scrambled back up, but it didn't get a second chance to lunge at him. The moment it tried, he brought the blade he carried down on its neck, slicing it neatly from its shoulders and sending a fresh spray of old blood on the floor.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and tried to replay the question she'd asked in his mind. Was he alright. That suddenly sounded funny, and his face split into a grin when he turned back toward her.

"Never better." -- He made it another two shuffling steps forward before he collapsed.