Chapter 3: The Plague Doctor

  Dr. Fujia had once been a man of respect, a gifted head surgeon revered for his skill in the operating room. But beneath that mask of professionalism, a storm was brewing. The death of his father and middle brother had shattered his world at the age of fifteen, leaving him the youngest of his family. His life had spiraled into chaos, grief gnawing at his insides, and he had turned to drinking to numb the pain. He’d lost everything—his family, his sense of self, and any semblance of stability.

  But amid this turmoil, one thing remained etched into his mind: the lessons of his father. His father, the notorious serial killer, had shown him what true power was. His middle brother, too, had followed in his father's footsteps, perpetuating the legacy of death. Their dark family heritage was one of brutality, and Dr. Fujia was no stranger to it.

  His mother, a cold and absent figure, had abandoned them when he was young. She left his father for another man, and in doing so, had condemned her sons to grow up without the comfort of a maternal presence. Her departure had ignited a burning resentment in Fujia and his brother. She had chosen another family, leaving them to fend for themselves in a cold, unforgiving world. No matter what they achieved, no matter how much they excelled, they could never escape that one fact: she had abandoned them.

  As Dr. Fujia matured, the resentment festered. His mind, once focused on healing, began to twist and bend into something darker, colder. The years of torment gave birth to a new persona—Plague Doctor. The old man who had been the respected doctor now existed only as a mask, and beneath it, the true monster began to awaken.

  The turning point came one fateful day when Fujia decided to track down the woman who had shattered his life: his mother. He found her, living with a new family, blissfully unaware of the wrath that had been building for decades. She had started anew, surrounded by a new husband and children, but to Fujia, this was an unforgivable act. She had stolen their father’s love, leaving him and his brother to rot in a world of pain.

  Without a shred of mercy, he infiltrated her home. The once-respected surgeon now wore the mask of death, his hands stained with the blood of his past. What followed was nothing short of an abomination.

  He butchered her, her new husband, and their four children with the precision of a doctor—only this time, the scalpel wasn’t used to heal. The house became a scene from the most grotesque nightmare. Blood pooled in every corner, organs were torn from bodies and scattered like confetti, fingernails and toenails ripped from their beds, teeth pulled from jaws with savage violence, and hair torn from scalps like weeds. It was a house of horrors, a grotesque display of human mutilation so vile that even the most twisted minds would struggle to comprehend it.

  By the end, her family was unrecognizable. The bodies were no longer human; they were a gruesome pulp of torn flesh, shattered bones, and remnants of who they once were. The horrors Dr. Fujia had unleashed could not be fathomed by ordinary minds. They had become mere husks, twisted beyond recognition, mere vessels for the rage he had carried within him for years.

  And through it all, Plague Doctor stood over them, breathing heavily, his mask reflecting the eerie glow of the aftermath. He had claimed his revenge, not only on his mother, but on the world that had discarded him. He had become the third serial killer in his family’s legacy. His transformation was complete.

  Plague Doctor’s revenge was not just an act of violence—it was an embodiment of everything he had suffered, everything he had lost, and everything he had been taught to cherish. As he stood there, surveying the carnage, it was as if the echoes of his father’s lessons rang in his ears. This was the culmination of years of twisted teachings, of watching as his father and brother reveled in bloodshed without remorse. To them, life was a game—a series of moves made to assert dominance, to punish those who had wronged them. And now, he too had embraced that path.

  The house was soaked in blood—walls, floors, furniture, everything was stained with the life that had been drained from those who had dared to forget him. But even in this grotesque scene, he felt nothing but a cold satisfaction. His fingers, slick with gore, gripped the handles of his tools. The surgical precision with which he worked, the meticulousness with which he tore the family apart, was almost beautiful in its cruelty. He wasn’t just destroying them; he was dismantling the idea of family, of love, of everything that had been denied him. His mother, the one who had abandoned him, had once been a symbol of his own longing for connection, for warmth. But now, she was just another casualty in his unrelenting pursuit of revenge.

  With each death, each disfigurement, the years of resentment boiled over, and he began to see them as nothing more than pieces of meat. His mother, the woman who had given birth to him, now lay like a doll, her body violated beyond recognition. Her once-beautiful face was a ruin of pulped flesh, her features lost beneath the violence of his rage. Her new husband, once a symbol of stability and hope for her, was now no better than a discarded carcass. The children, innocent victims of his vengeance, were nothing more than collateral damage in his twisted view of justice. They had to pay for the sins of their mother.

  The house reeked of death, a putrid stench that permeated every corner. The once warm and inviting home had turned into a macabre mausoleum. Broken furniture was overturned, blood splattered on the walls like a chaotic abstract painting. It was as though the very house had taken on the personality of its owner, each corner steeped in a silent scream that would never be heard.

  Fujia—the man he once was—was gone. In his place stood Plague Doctor, a monster in the guise of a doctor. His surgical tools were no longer instruments of healing, but instruments of destruction. His hands, once capable of saving lives, were now capable only of taking them, of making them suffer. The satisfaction he felt as he watched the life drain from his mother’s eyes wasn’t born of hate alone—it was born of a twisted sense of triumph. He had done what they could never do—he had taken back control.

  He wiped the blood from his hands, the mask of death reflecting the dim light that flickered from the wreckage around him. His heart beat steadily in his chest, but his mind was empty. There was no joy, no elation—just a hollow void, a vacancy that could never be filled. Revenge had been served, but it had done nothing to soothe the torment within him. The cycle of pain, of violence, of loss—he had become a part of it, a cog in the endless machinery of destruction. And the world would never be the same again.

  As he turned to leave, his eyes fell on the shattered remains of the family that had replaced him. There was no satisfaction in their demise. There was only the cold, unwavering knowledge that he had done what needed to be done. They had paid the price for abandoning him, for taking away the one thing that had mattered: love. He had become the thing his family had always been—a predator, a killer with no conscience, no remorse.

  And so, Plague Doctor stepped into the night, his mask hiding the twisted expression on his face. He was no longer the man who had once been a respected surgeon. He was a monster, a product of his upbringing, and he would carry that legacy with him for the rest of his life. The blood that stained his hands would never wash away. It had become a part of him, a part of the person he had become. The world would know his name, and they would fear him, for he had become something far worse than a doctor. He had become a plague, a curse upon the earth, and nothing would ever stop him from spreading his devastation.

  The Plague Doctor was born.

  Now, with his thirst for vengeance quenched, Plague Doctor would carry on with his gruesome work, hunting down those who had wronged him and making them pay in ways no one could comprehend. His mind was broken beyond repair, and he saw the world as nothing more than a game of life and death—a world where only the strong survived, and the weak were left to rot in the wake of his passing.

  After the brutal massacre of his mother’s new family, Plague Doctor's mind descended further into madness. His thirst for vengeance had been satisfied, but it only left him emptier—more hollow, more consumed by rage. His transformation was complete. No longer Dr. Fujia, the respected surgeon, he had embraced a new identity, one that struck terror into the hearts of all who crossed his path.

  The world had discarded him, abandoned him to rot in the shadows of his own broken family, and now he would repay the world in kind. He became a force of nature, hunting those who had wronged him, those who had crossed his path, and those who dared to show weakness. Each murder, each life snuffed out, was a part of his twisted redemption. He would be both the plague and the cure, the harbinger of death who swept through cities, leaving nothing but suffering and devastation in his wake.

  His methods were surgical in their precision, yet utterly horrific in their execution. Plague Doctor was a master of poison, a maestro who knew how to orchestrate the slow, agonizing death of his victims. His poisons were legendary—each a unique concoction, each with a different purpose, but all carrying the same result: death. Some toxins acted quickly, shutting down the body’s vital systems in mere minutes, while others worked slowly, ensuring that the victim suffered for hours before succumbing to their fate. There was no mercy, no escape.

  Over the course of his reign of terror, Plague Doctor would claim over 500 lives, each one marked by a signature—a poison, a blade, and a grisly display of his skill. He would slip into the homes of the rich and powerful, administering his poisons with the precision of a surgeon. He never left a trace. His victims, often unaware of the impending danger, would fall prey to his cunning methods.

  Sometimes, he would place a drop of his toxin in a drink, watching as the poison silently spread through their bloodstream, waiting for the inevitable collapse. Other times, he would inject the poison directly into their veins, feeling the rush of satisfaction as their bodies writhed in agony, struggling against the inevitable. Each death was a masterpiece, and Plague Doctor reveled in the artistry of it all. He reveled in the screams, in the desperation, in the helplessness that filled the air as his victims fought to survive—only to fail, just as he had failed so many years ago.

  But it wasn’t just poison that Plague Doctor wielded. His blade, sharp and unforgiving, was his second instrument of death. Unlike the poison, which acted from within, the blade was a direct attack—swift, brutal, and final. With it, Plague Doctor would often leave his victims mutilated beyond recognition, carving them like a surgeon dissecting a cadaver. His blade became an extension of his will, a tool to exact pain and suffering.

  The Plague Doctor's personal favorite was the Cicada Blade, a long, jagged weapon that had been forged by his own hand. It wasn’t just a weapon—it was a statement. Each swing, each thrust, was a declaration of his hatred for the world, for the people who had wronged him. He took pleasure in watching the blood spill, in hearing the sickening sound of flesh being cut open.

  As he moved through the cities, Plague Doctor became a shadow, an urban legend whispered about in hushed tones. Some claimed he was a phantom, appearing from nowhere and disappearing just as quickly. Others spoke of him as a walking plague, a man who could kill without leaving a trace, without mercy or remorse. No one knew where he came from or why he killed, but they all knew one thing: if you crossed him, you would never survive.

  His motives were as twisted as his methods. Each murder, each act of brutality, was part of a larger plan—one that was never fully understood by those around him. It wasn’t just about vengeance anymore; it was about making the world feel the same emptiness that he had felt for years. He wanted them to understand what it meant to be abandoned, to be broken, to be forced to carry the weight of their own pain and hatred.

  As his body count grew, so too did his reputation. Plague Doctor was no longer just a killer—he had become a symbol of death itself. His name struck fear into the hearts of the most powerful men and women in the world. No matter how much they tried to run, no matter how much they tried to hide, Plague Doctor would always find them. And when he did, they would learn the true meaning of suffering.

  But in the end, the killings, the poisons, the bloodshed—it all became meaningless. Plague Doctor had no real goals anymore. He had no vision, no greater purpose. He was a man lost in a sea of his own making, a madman who believed that the only way to truly be free was to destroy everything around him. His actions were a reflection of his broken soul—his revenge against the world that had abandoned him and left him to rot.

  The Plague Doctor would never stop. There would always be someone who wronged him, someone who deserved to die. And as long as there were people in the world, there would always be someone for him to kill. Because for him, there was no cure. There was only the plague.

  MOTIVES

  Vengeance: The foundation of Plague Doctor’s thirst for vengeance lies in the deep wounds left by his past. His mother’s abandonment, leaving him with his father—a man who treated his existence as an afterthought—left scars that never healed. At first, vengeance was aimed at his mother for betraying him, but as the years went on, that target shifted. Every death, every torturous act, became a way to punish not only his mother but the world that had forsaken him. His hatred, once focused on a single person, grew to a point where he could no longer distinguish between those who wronged him and those who simply existed. The world itself became his enemy, and every soul within it was a potential target for his fury.

  Obsession: Plague Doctor’s obsession is more than just an inclination toward destruction—it is the lens through which he views the world. The very nature of his obsession is rooted in an overwhelming desire to be in control, to exert power over the one thing he never had control over—his life. From his earliest years, he was powerless, tossed aside and forgotten. The obsession with control grew from that powerlessness, and it manifested as the need to dominate those around him. Every victim he claimed was an opportunity to regain that control, and every life he extinguished was another way to assert his superiority over the world that had rejected him. His obsession with perfection in his executions is a reflection of this need: to carve, to destroy, to dissect not just bodies but the power dynamics he feels entitled to alter.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Hatred for Humanity (Taught by His Father): His father's influence runs deep, forming the core of his beliefs. In his father’s eyes, humanity was weak—weak in mind, weak in spirit, and inherently corrupt. Plague Doctor absorbed this belief as though it were his own blood. He was taught that the world, filled with flawed humans, was irredeemable. To his father, and subsequently to Plague Doctor, humans were nothing more than a disease, a virus that needed to be eradicated. This lesson became a justification for every horrible thing he did. The brutality he inflicted on others wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity. The weak deserved to be purged, the corrupt cleansed, and the world set on a new path of "justice" through destruction.

  Medical Sadism: The once-revered surgeon now uses his medical skills for pure sadistic pleasure. What was once a tool for saving lives had transformed into a weapon of terror, wielded with precision. Plague Doctor takes delight not just in the death he causes but in the suffering that precedes it. He loves the slow unraveling of a victim’s body, the feeling of power as they struggle against the inevitable end. He dissects both bodies and minds, probing for weaknesses, exposing the vulnerability of each soul he encounters. He is meticulous, taking time to savor the agony, to stretch it out as long as possible. This sadism is not merely about pain—it is a twisted form of artistry, a celebration of the power he now holds over life and death. It is an act of control, an attempt to force the world into submission.

  Fascination with Justice (Taught by His Middle Brother): While his father’s worldview was one of destruction and nihilism, it was his middle brother who introduced him to the concept of "justice." However, this was not the justice of laws or fairness—it was an idea of justice that leaned into brutality and excess. His brother believed that the world was sick, that true justice could only be achieved by burning away the old, the corrupt, and the weak through wrath. This view formed the basis for Plague Doctor’s ideology. Justice was about retribution, not for the sake of rehabilitation but as an act of cleansing. It was about delivering punishment that could not be evaded or escaped, an unyielding force that would punish those who had been spared by society’s moral compass.

  COMPLEXITY

  Respect for Krishna: Despite the twisted path Plague Doctor walks, his respect for Krishna is noteworthy. Krishna’s calm, strategic mind, and his ability to remain unshaken by the chaos of the world intrigued Plague Doctor. While he may have despised the system Krishna sought to protect, there was a part of him that recognized the genius in Krishna’s thinking. He admired the boy's ability to face him with courage, knowing that Krishna was one of the few who could survive the kind of brutality he imposed. The way Krishna operated, in Plague Doctor’s mind, wasn’t simply a survival tactic—it was a challenge to him. Krishna’s existence represented the order Plague Doctor had rejected, and the very presence of such a person provoked something deeper: a twisted desire to see whether Krishna could endure the full weight of his wrath. In a way, Plague Doctor saw Krishna as a worthy adversary, a necessary opponent in the chaos he had created.

  Small Mercies - Quick Deaths for Those in the Crossfire: In the midst of his dark reign of terror, there existed rare moments of twisted mercy. If innocents were caught in the crossfire, Plague Doctor would often end their lives quickly, without subjecting them to the drawn-out suffering he normally imposed on his victims. These moments weren’t acts of compassion—they were the result of his skewed sense of justice. The innocent, in his mind, were simply another form of weakness, and while they weren’t deserving of the prolonged agony of the guilty, they were still expendable. Yet, there was a strange contradiction here: a small part of him still retained a glimmer of empathy. Perhaps it was his own fear of suffering, a fear of being the helpless victim again, that drove him to provide those fleeting mercies. In his mind, the quick deaths were the last shred of humanity he could offer—a distant echo of the surgeon he once was, before he became the monster.

  Strange Hobby – Snuggling His Pillows Every Night: Despite the bloodshed and violence that defined his existence, Plague Doctor clung to a bizarre, almost childlike comfort. Every night, he retreated into the darkness of his lair, surrounded by the aftermath of his chaos, to snuggle with his pillows. These pillows were not just soft objects—they were symbols of a past he could never reclaim, a time before the violence had taken over. In those brief moments of solitude, he allowed himself to remember what it was like to be human, to feel warmth, and perhaps, even to long for the love he never received. It was a moment of weakness, but also a reminder of how much he had lost and how far he had fallen.

  Ideology – Wrath as the Only Way to Purge Injustice: Wrath wasn’t just an emotion to Plague Doctor—it was his religion. It was the only thing that could guide him, the one thing he believed in fully. Wrath was pure, unrelenting, and indiscriminate. He had been taught to see the world as a corrupt, broken place, and only through wrath could that corruption be purged. To him, wrath was justice, wrath was truth, and wrath was the only way to right the wrongs of the world. He believed that through the destruction of the weak, the corrupt, and the guilty, he could cleanse the world, even if it meant drowning everything in blood. His ideology was rooted in his belief that only through total annihilation could society be rebuilt, purged of all that was broken. Wrath was his guiding principle, and he lived by it in every action, every breath.

  SYMBOLISM

  The Symbol of Wrath: Wrath was not simply an emotion—Plague Doctor was its embodiment. His existence was a living testament to its power. Wrath fueled every action he took, every person he killed, and every atrocity he committed. It was not a passing rage, but a burning, insatiable fire that defined him. He carried the symbol of wrath wherever he went, in the blood on his hands, in the poison he created, and in the destruction he left behind. Wrath was not something he controlled—it was something that controlled him. His actions were not just the result of anger; they were the fulfillment of an inevitable destiny. Wrath was what he had become, and he wore it like a mantle.

  The Symbol of Hate: Hate, for Plague Doctor, wasn’t simply a response to his past—it was the driving force behind every choice he made. He hated the world for abandoning him, he hated the system for perpetuating injustice, and he hated those who stood against him. Hate was his constant companion, something that fed his every thought and action. It was the lens through which he saw the world—a world of weaklings, hypocrites, and fools. Hate wasn’t just a feeling for him—it was a weapon. And he wielded it with terrifying precision.

  The Symbol of Resentment: Resentment wasn’t just a leftover emotion from his past—it was the core of his existence. Every act of cruelty, every torturous kill, was an attempt to exact his revenge on a world that had wronged him. He resented the universe itself for putting him in the position he was in. His resentment had festered into something far more dangerous than simple bitterness—it had transformed into a poison, eating away at his very soul. This resentment was what drove him to pursue his twisted sense of justice, to wipe the slate clean through murder and chaos.

  The Symbol of Poisonous Hatred: Plague Doctor’s poison wasn’t just a tool—it was an extension of his hatred. His poisons were imbued with the very same venom that coursed through his veins. They were slow, insidious, and impossible to escape. Just like his hatred, the poison spread through every victim, silently tearing them apart from the inside out. It was a symbol of his internal decay, his slow but inevitable descent into madness. And just as poison left no survivors, neither would his hatred. It was something that would consume everything in its path, until there was nothing left.

  The Symbol of Vengeance: Vengeance was his raison d’être, the purpose behind everything he did. It wasn’t simply a goal—it was his identity. The pursuit of vengeance was what had driven him to become the monster he was. It was the blade in his hand, the fire in his eyes, and the blood on his hands. Vengeance was not just something he sought—it was something he lived for. Every death, every act of cruelty, was a step in his relentless march toward retribution. And even in death, vengeance would be the legacy he left behind.

  PSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS

  Name: Plague Doctor (Dr. Fujia)

  

  
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    Sadistic: Plague Doctor is a sadist of the highest order. The suffering of others, particularly physical pain and psychological torment, is not merely a means to an end for him; it’s a source of ecstasy. The grotesque satisfaction he derives from watching others writhe in agony mirrors his belief that pain is the only true teacher, an irreversible force that shapes the world around him. His obsession with suffering goes beyond personal gratification—it’s integral to his warped philosophy of existence. The brutality he inflicts is, in his mind, necessary for the greater purpose he perceives: the purification of a corrupt world. This sadism isn't just about physical harm—he finds an intimate thrill in psychological manipulation, watching his victims slowly descend into madness or despair.
  
    


  
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    Manipulative: Plague Doctor's genius isn't only in his surgical skills; it's in how he orchestrates human behavior. He knows the weaknesses of the mind and heart and exploits them with precision. Whether it’s through leveraging someone's past trauma or fueling their deepest fears, Plague Doctor has mastered the art of manipulation. His conversations aren’t just dialogues—they’re traps, designed to destabilize his victims and leave them vulnerable to his machinations. He plays his victims like pawns, setting up intricate psychological webs that entrap them long before any physical harm is done. The true horror lies not in his surgical tools, but in his ability to break people mentally before breaking them physically.
  
    


  
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    Narcissistic: Deep inside, Plague Doctor sees himself as a higher being, an enlightened force that stands above the petty concerns of humanity. In his eyes, the world is flawed, corrupted by weakness and indulgence. His monstrous acts are the consequence of a grand destiny—a divine call for him to act as the harbinger of a new, cruel world. His narcissism isn’t limited to a simple sense of self-importance; it extends to a delusional belief that he alone can cleanse the world through suffering, that his pain makes him uniquely qualified to judge others. This inflated sense of self-worth is evident in every interaction. He views others as mere instruments to further his own grand vision, using them as tools for his “greater good.”
  
    


  
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    Obsessive: Obsession defines Plague Doctor’s life. Every aspect of his existence is consumed by his need for vengeance, his desire to perfect his tormenting skills, and his pursuit of an eternal life through suffering. This obsession feeds his every action. His rituals, his methods of violence, and even his quest for immortality are all consumed by the need to control and manipulate the world around him. His fixation is absolute, leaving no room for distractions or weaknesses. The meticulous nature of his torture is a manifestation of this obsession—nothing is done haphazardly, every step is calculated, every tool is carefully selected. His need to inflict pain is a compulsion, an addiction that drives him to new heights of cruelty.
  
    


  
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    Emotionally Detached: Over the years, Plague Doctor has learned to shut off his emotional core. The warmth of human connection, the empathy for suffering, the capacity for love—all these are foreign concepts to him now. He has buried these feelings so deep that they no longer even surface in his consciousness. His emotional detachment isn’t the result of a natural coldness—it’s a learned survival mechanism born from his traumatic past. The death of his family, the betrayal he felt at the hands of the world, left him hollow inside. To cope with this emptiness, he severed himself from any emotional attachment, focusing solely on his pursuit of vengeance. In his mind, emotions are weakness, and only through detachment can one achieve true power.
  
    


  
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    Calculating: Plague Doctor’s intelligence is razor-sharp, and his cruelty is executed with surgical precision. Every action he takes is meticulously planned, not just in terms of achieving his goal, but in maximizing the pain and suffering he inflicts. Every cut, every moment of anguish, every psychological breakdown is part of a larger strategy—he is not a mindless killer, but a strategist of torment. He observes his victims closely, learning their fears, their desires, and their weaknesses before moving in for the kill. He sees the world as a chessboard, where every move he makes is calculated to bring him closer to his ultimate goal: vengeance, immortality, and the dismantling of humanity’s weakness.
  
    


  

  INTJ (The Architect)

  Plague Doctor’s personality aligns with the INTJ archetype, often referred to as "The Architect." These individuals are known for their visionary, strategic thinking, and extreme sense of self-confidence. In Plague Doctor’s case, he believes he is not only a visionary but a god-like figure with a mission to purge the world of its inherent corruption. He is driven by a clear, albeit twisted, vision of how the world should function and will stop at nothing to realize that vision. His superior intellect makes him capable of seeing the bigger picture, but his lack of empathy and moral compass means he is unbothered by the costs required to achieve his goals. He is strategic, calculating, and always thinking two steps ahead—traits that make him an extraordinarily dangerous villain.

  

  
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    Anger: Beneath Plague Doctor’s cold, emotionless exterior is a seething rage. His entire existence is defined by the anger he holds for the world, for his family, and for himself. The loss of his family and the betrayal he felt are the core of this rage. His anger fuels every action, turning it into a tool of destruction. His anger is not simply a response to the world—it is his justification for his actions. He channels his fury into his work, making it all the more intense and ruthless.
  
    


  
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    Hatred: Plague Doctor’s hatred is all-encompassing. He despises humanity, viewing it as weak, corrupt, and deserving of suffering. This hatred drives his every move, fueling his desire for vengeance and his belief that his torment is a necessary cleansing force. He has no tolerance for perceived weaknesses in others, and he sees any form of mercy as a betrayal of his grand purpose. This hatred is not selective; it is a burning resentment for all of humanity, and it shapes his every decision.
  
    


  
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    Self-loathing: Despite his delusions of grandeur, Plague Doctor struggles with deep self-loathing. He sees himself as a monster, but he believes this monstrosity is justified. His self-perception is distorted—he sees himself as an avenger, a force of nature that is beyond redemption. But deep down, there is a part of him that recognizes the destruction he has caused, and it eats at him. This self-loathing fuels his obsessive drive for immortality, as he feels that only by becoming something more than human can he escape the emptiness inside.
  
    


  
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    Detached: The trauma he has experienced has left Plague Doctor emotionally numb. He has learned to shut off his humanity in order to survive. His emotions are distant memories—something he has purposely buried beneath layers of ice-cold rationality. This detachment is a defense mechanism, a way to avoid feeling the pain that has haunted him for so long. But it is also a curse, as it prevents him from experiencing any true connection with others. He is alone in his quest, and he embraces this isolation as both a strength and a burden.
  
    


  

  

  
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    Severe Psychopathy: Plague Doctor exhibits classic signs of psychopathy. He is incapable of empathy and has no remorse for his actions. His need to manipulate, control, and inflict suffering is not a means to an end—it is the end itself. His inability to form emotional connections with others makes him a textbook case of a psychopath. He is driven entirely by his own desires and is willing to sacrifice anything and anyone in his pursuit of power and vengeance.
  
    


  
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    Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD): The trauma of losing his family and his mother's betrayal has left Plague Doctor with deep emotional scars. Flashbacks, anger outbursts, and an unrelenting vigilance characterize his symptoms of PTSD. His traumatic past colors his entire view of the world, making him hyper-aware of threats and constantly searching for ways to reassert control. His rage is a direct response to the pain he has never fully processed.
  
    


  
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    Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD): His need for control is so strong that it manifests as obsessive-compulsive behavior. Each act of violence, each moment of torment, must be perfect. The rituals and methods he uses are part of this obsessive need for order. He cannot tolerate chaos; everything must unfold according to his plan. His OCD compels him to keep his operations running with military precision, with no room for error.
  
    


  
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    Delusions of Grandeur: Plague Doctor has developed a god-like view of himself, convinced that his suffering grants him the right to inflict pain on others. This delusion shapes his entire identity. He believes that he is the instrument of divine judgment, and that his actions are necessary for the world’s survival. His delusions of grandeur are a manifestation of his deep-seated need for validation and power.
  
    


  
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    Moral Disengagement: Plague Doctor has completely disconnected from conventional morality. He no longer sees his actions as evil; in his mind, they are a form of righteous judgment. He has developed a warped ethical system in which suffering is not just acceptable, but necessary. His moral disengagement allows him to commit atrocities without hesitation or guilt.