It was a horrible scene. I can remember it like it happened yesterday. They were... unfortunate, but the ignorance of the masses was more unfortunate. Some would even go as far as to attribute everything to allegory, believing that the priests were being symbolic when they were not.

"Irregulars are the filth of the world; they are parasites. The world will not be pure until we get rid of every single one of them."

That was the basic tenet of the Purity religion. They believed the "Golden Age" would not come until the world was rid of all Irregulars, and as simple as that may sound, some foolish men stepped in and tried to mystify their horrible message, interpreting "Irregular" as "sin" and assuming that they had to exercise virtue for the Golden Age to come. How I wish they could be tortured forever! So, like that, everyone was deceived, giving the church the perfect cover to carry out its more nefarious deeds.

But anyway, on that day, my knees betrayed me as I fought the urge to vomit. I could see death all around me. One child had all his limbs sawn off, his torso resting on the wall with dread etched into his expression. Another had his face beaten to the point that you couldn't make out any of his facial features. I touched his arm, but it was cold, and he didn't even twitch in response. Yet another had been skinned alive, and at this point, I couldn't keep the food I ate that morning down and let out all the contents of my stomach.

So many different thoughts swirled around in my head. Is this what's going to happen to me? Did the orphanage know about this? Is there anything I can do to help? And, just out of the corner of my eye, a slight movement caught my attention. I looked and saw an altar at the center of the room where a boy lay. He was covered in bruises and was suffering from terrible third-degree burns. No doubt they had singled him out because he had tried to protect his brethren, but that was something I realized in the coming years.

With the little strength he had left, he turned his marred face to look at me and stretched out his right hand. It was a silent plea for help, but at the time, I was only beginning to discover my abilities. I didn't know if I'd be able to help him at all, but I wanted to do something, anything to help him. I got up, wiped my mouth with my hand, and walked towards him, my legs shaking all the way. 

I stood before the altar, held his hand in mine, and closed my eyes. I imagined him healthy with all the force my little mind could muster, and that day, a miracle happened. I call it a miracle even to this day because if I had not stumbled upon it, I wouldn't have become an Administrator. That was when I learned the true limits of my abilities. I couldn't just cast illusions; I could also make them real, and his skin, which looked as good as new, proved that to me.

I saved Shane's life, and I'm still proud of it to this day, but this scum must pay for what he did to Shane. 

"Urrgghh..."

He groaned, but I couldn't care less about his pain. As far as I was concerned, he should suffer MORE than this, but how could I make his life even more miserable? I looked through his memories and found the answer: He had a lot of regrets.

"I'm gonna give you a break,"

I said, but it was a lie. He would only be entering a new world of suffering, where those regrets would be replayed and amplified over and over again until the point before his mind breaks. After a moment respite, I'll come back to torture him physically again. I should bet with Douglas or Amelia how many rounds they'd think he'd survive.

"No, no, NOOOOOOOO!!!"

The old man started screaming, but I couldn't care less as I left the room to take care of other business.