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"I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become."
~Carl Gustave Jung
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He knew what he did.

He remembered everything. 

Michael carefully stood up, his eyes never leaving the butchered woman. There was nothing left to distinguish her by. He gagged, but nothing came out. Behind him, the lion kept its distance by the door. 

"I couldn't stop myself." He muttered, each step he tried to take only made him stumble. "It felt natural, Set. Like I had to, I needed to." 

He fell to the floor and landed in more blood. He wanted to stay in this position forever, never to stand or move. The haunting memories of what he had done invaded his thoughts and only worsened the pain. 

"I killed them all. I can see it all so clearly, it was me." He continued to mumble to himself as he caught a glimpse of Set walking towards him. 

The lion stood by him and placed a paw over his head. "Get up." 

"Why couldn't I stop myself?" He ignored the lion. 

Set growled and slashed his face with pure aggression. He yelled in shock, only for Set to place its paw against his head again. "Get up!" 

Michael finally obeyed. He gradually stood as half his face bled from the attack. His eyes looked back at the woman beside him. "Jesus. I- I'm sor-" he couldn't even speak without stuttering. 

"We must leave now." Set stared at him, its patience seemed incredibly thin. He had never seen it so angry before. 

"I can't move." Michael whined. "I don't know who I am."

That only frustrated Set further. It roared ferociously in his face which only made Michael stagger back. "Set, I'm sorry. I didn't know this was possible." 

"Enough talk!" Set had enough. It stepped back and looked around the room. Michael didn't speak again in fear of what may happen. He watched the lion ponder in its place until it turned around and faced him. 

Suddenly, it charged at him. He barely had time to say anything before Set leapt forward. Instead of being pounced on, the lion phased into him. Michael fell backwards and landed with a thud. But he didn't stay in that position for long. He was still in control of his actions, but a whole surge of confidence flowed through him. He knew what he needed to do, and he felt unstoppable.

Like a machine, he leveled himself back onto his feet. Michael looked at himself in a mirror atop the woman's desk. The gash across his face was turning transparent. His own body regenerated, and his strength returned to him, only tenfold. 

He walked to the bedroom door but then stopped. Instead of opening it, he locked it and turned back. The window would serve as a better escape route. He shoved the curtains aside and tried to pull the window up, but it seemed to be stuck. In a fit of rage, he punched the sill with enough strength to break it. 

He finally raised the window and climbed out. In the cold and lonely street, he was the only soul around. So once he closed the window behind him, he took off in a sprint. Rather than running as far away as possible, he ran north-east to the nearest church. He passed through a park and brushed through leaves to reach the side of the church.

The doorway was locked, and he vaulted over a chain fence to the rear. He found a garden hose beside a drain and took the opportunity to wash himself. Blood streamed down the ground, and he stopped once his skin was clean. As for his clothes, he had a different idea in mind. 

Behind the church was a row of townhouses. Darkness shrouded the dim area without a single light present. Michael climbed over a short wall and reached a backyard. There were often clothes left outside on racks or windows to dry. Given his coat's popularity amongst men during this time, it wasn't hard finding an identical one and snatching it. 

With a quick swap, he headed back to the church. He dumped his bloodied fit into a manhole, knowing the recently constructed sewer system will hide his evidence indefinitely. 

Finally, he left everything behind. With Set's internal guidance, he returned home and gathered whatever belongings he had or wished to keep. Before dawn broke, he had already departed. 

He went wherever he could find solace away from mankind. As far away and isolate as possible, so no one could ever find him again. He could never return to London for any reason, not even to learn more about the Valerie woman and why she had that weapon. 

All the while, Set never left him. It helped him keep a steady pace as he traveled far. He interacted with no one and kept a quiet mouth for days that eventually turned into weeks. He tried not to think about the murder, but the memories haunted him on occasion. 

Because of Set, he never needed to sleep nor rest. When animals tired, he abandoned them to continue on foot. He had an infinite supply of stamina that helped him continue forward for as long as Set remained inside of him. 

His travels took him far away to Ireland, more specifically, the Cliffs of Moher. Almost a thousand years ago, he had built a home here. After his exploration in eastern Asia, he had formed a close bond with a woman from Ireland that introduced him to her homeland. Since that time, he always returned to the cliffsides once or twice a decade to find peace and serenity. 

But time had not been quite so forgiving to his home. Nothing was left beside a vast stretch of land that came to a steep plummet. A torrential downpour rocked the Earth as Michael stood underneath the heavy rain with a heavier heart. He stopped and looked over the Atlantic that continued far beyond his sight. 

Finally, Set made its exit. The lion seamlessly leapt from his torso and landed in front of him. They looked at one another, and Michael took a deep breath. 

"Why did you bring me here?" Set had controlled him for so long that he was more concerned of why it brought him here as opposed to the murders. 

"To keep you from harming anyone else and to rest." The lion sat in the rain.

"But why Ireland?" 

"This is a place that keeps you untroubled, I only followed your internal instructions." 

Michael shivered as raindrops kept his head down. "And what of London? Who really killed those women? Was it me or you?" 

"You used me in ways I had not considered. This was a shared discovery between us." 

"That we can merge into one unstoppable killing machine fueled by blood?" 

"Unstoppable, yes. But your isolation led you to murder." 

Michael pointed a finger back, his own nerves struck. "You're saying I did this? That I killed those women willingly, and for what? Because I was lonely?" 

"Because you always approach the easiest solution to any obstacle." Set stepped towards him until its nose almost met his. "Because two thousand years of repeating your mistakes have taught you nothing. Your first and last resort will always be murder." 

They remained in temporary silence until Set gave its final remark. "You were never strong to begin with. Rather than facing Aisha after breaking her, you chose to paint yourself a hero by chasing strangers in a desert. She will always remember that." 

Set turned around and sat in front of the cliffside. The wind ruffled its fur as raindrops softened it. Michael twitched all over. He couldn't admit that everything the lion said was right. 

His teeth grit together, and his hand reached for his inner pocket. He felt the handle of a knife and gripped it tightly. Just as thunder shook the sky, he sprinted. 

Right before impact, he screamed in rage with his knife raised. The lion never flinched, as it didn't need to. Michael attacked, but never felt the blade pierce the animal. There was no collision as Set turned transparent enough to allow Michael to pass right through it. 

Michael stumbled forward over the Irish cliffside. 

He plummeted two-hundred meters before his meeting his untimely demise yet again.

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Historical Notes:

Of the several murders taken place during this time against female prostitutes, only five were linked to Jack the Ripper. All the murders were committed within a mile away from each other.

A map of the Five Canonical Murders

There were over a hundred suspects in the Jack the Ripper case. Numerous theories hint that the Ripper may have been a police officer, a doctor, an upper class citizen, or multiple people altogether. The possibility that Jack the Ripper had a cult of several killers committing murders in his name is a widely popular theory.

This chapter was initially written in 2021, long before the confirmation of the Ripper's identity in early 2025. Though scientists claim to have discovered the Ripper's true figure, some historians are still doubtful as they say some of the evidence doesn't match the timeline or forensics of the case. 

As of now, the Ripper's true identity is still considered a mystery. But scientists claim the real man behind the murders was a twenty-three year old Polish immigrant named Aaron Kosminski. 

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