Wrath walked along in silence, looking around the abandoned city for a while. Empty. Dead. All the people that had lived here died to become a philosopher's stone. But he didn't mind, he didn't mind at all. Because all he felt when thought of humans... Were bitterness. Bitter hatred that passed over his skin whenever the image of Izumi came into his mind.
Nothing else, no guilt, no pain, no fear, no shame. Only a bitter hatred. Sometimes he wished he could forget about it. Forget that he was created, forget that his own mother tried to kill him. He wanted to forget so badly. He wanted to listen to Sloth and smile and accept that she was his mother.
But deep down inside he knew. He knew that she wasn't. He was living a lie. And it never had to be this way, this uncontrollable hatred inside of him, it would've never been born, if it wasn't created... It was planted inside of him when Envy gave him the stones, rooted in his body and finally it had consumed him. It had made him do things he couldn't forget. But he felt no guilt.
He hurt people, he mocked them, he taunted them, he laughed about them, he enjoyed seeing them in pain, he found humans pitiful, and even though he wanted to become one so badly, he hated them too. Their weakness, everything about them. From their love till their hate. But the hate. The rage. It was like a family to him, something that soothed him, that made him forget.
After all, it was becoming him, he was the hatred, he was the rage burning inside of him. The once pure child he was was dead. Buried deep inside. He was Wrath now. No-one else. Just Wrath.
