And they would stand against Chronoblivion in the process. The choice seems almost reasonable under the circumstances: surrender to the Faceless, and fight the war untethered by this pain, this weight that he's carried for so long. Stop pretending he can be anything other than what he is.

A monster. Not a weapon, not a soldier, but a being only capable of destruction and ruin.

Resignation creeps upwards to choke off the welling despair. When the Legion offered a place in its ranks, it seemed the natural course to take. Hadn't he been trying to undo what he had done, to clean the slate after committing so many atrocities? How foolishly optimistic of him. He could never tip those scales, no matter what he did or how hard he tried. There was far too much blood on his hands, as proven by the bodies piled high no matter where he looked, the accusatory stares.

So why trouble himself further, carrying on in futile, meaningless gestures?

They would be better off without him.

Locus says nothing in response, though his head hands forward. There are no more questions to be had, no more answers that will satisfy. This creature, whatever it is, is right.

Just let it be done, at last.