Chapter 33 : Unexpected Visitor
The hooded figure calmly walked out of the restaurant, leaving behind a scene of unimaginable horror, its footsteps the only sound in the eerie silence.
A while later, Stefan walk through the narrow streets, his footsteps echoing faintly off the concrete walls. The alley was quiet....too quiet.
He stopped in front of an old, rusted building. The paint had long peeled off, and the metal door stood crooked on its hinges.
Stefan raised his fist and knocked...once, twice. A pause. Then a third, slower knock. He smiled to himself, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.
No answer. The silence dragged, heavy and still. Just as he was about to knock again, the door creaked open.
An old man stood behind it, one eye squinting against the dim light. His face was sharp with age, his voice rough like gravel.
"Can I help you?" he asked, eyeing Stefan up and down.
Stefan's smile widened,
"Hey, old man… you Melpomene?" Stefan's voice cut through the stillness, low and sharp, with a hint of something darker just beneath it. His eyes gleamed....not with curiosity, but something colder. L
Melpomene froze for a beat, his hand still on the door.
"…Yeah," he said slowly. "That's me. Who's asking?"
Stefan took a step closer, the grin creeping across his face like a crack in glass.
"You'll know soon enough."
Melpomene's eyes burned with resolve as he took a breath and drew in the power of his soul.
Orve surged through his arm, veins glowing faintly as raw energy wrapped around his fist. The air snapped and crackled as he launched forward, driving a punch straight at Stefan's chest.
But Stefan moved like a phantom....fast, smooth, too calm. His hand shot up and caught Melpomene's glowing fist mid-air.
The impact never landed.
Melpomene's eyes went wide. His punch, fueled with everything he had, was stopped cold...like it meant nothing.
Stefan looked down at the fist in his hand and chuckled, low and mocking.
"That all you've got?"
His grip tightened.
Melpomene gasped as pain shot up his arm. Then...(BRUCK).
His bones shifted. Not just broken...reshaped, like clay in a sculptor's hands. His arm twisted unnaturally, muscle tearing, joints snapping out of place.
His scream tore through the alley, sharp and raw.
Stefan leaned in, eyes glinting with cruel delight.
"You should've stayed behind that door, old man."
Stefan's grip didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened...his fingers digging into Melpomene's flesh like iron hooks. His eyes blazed with a cruel, unnatural fire, the kind that didn't flicker… it devoured.
Melpomene screamed, voice cracking under the weight of pain. His body trembled, veins bulging, breath ragged. Blood ran down his twisted arm, dripping onto the cold alley floor.
The stench of it...sweat, pain, and raw fear...hung thick in the air. The shadows around them seemed to close in tighter, as if the darkness itself wanted to look away.
But Melpomene wasn't done. Not yet.
With a guttural roar, he summoned the last of his strength. The wind answered...howling, furious, wild. It surged around him, a cyclone of pure rage.
Walls cracked. Windows shattered. Chunks of stone and rusted metal were ripped from the alley and thrown skyward.
But Stefan… didn't move.
One hand still clamped around Melpomene's broken arm.
The other? Still in his coat pocket. Calm. Lazy. Mocking.
The storm raged, and he stood at its heart like a statue...untouched.
His grin widened. His eyes narrowed.
"Is that it?" he muttered, almost bored. "You call that power?"
The wind howled louder.
But Stefan just… stare at him with a smile.
Melpomene's breath hitched, his heart pounding as the truth hit him like a hammer....nothing he did mattered.
No matter how hard he fought, no matter how much Ance he poured into his wind, Stefan didn't budge. His grip was absolute, like his hand wasn't just holding flesh, but also his life.
Melpomene's winds, once sharp enough to slice stone and level buildings, were now no more than a breeze brushing against a huge boulder.
Panic crept in. Doubt. Then despair.
His powers...his life's work, his pride....meant nothing here. Against him.
Stefan tilted his head slightly, watching Melpomene struggle like a man drowning in air.
His smile was cruel, but his eyes… they were worse. Cold. Hollow. As if nothing he saw mattered....not pain, not power, not even reality.
Around him, the air grew thick and heavy. Not just dark, but wrong. The alley seemed to bend, the edges of space warping like heat waves, shadows stretching toward Stefan as if drawn by gravity itself.
This wasn't just power.
It was dominion.
Melpomene, shaking and bloodied, could only stare at the monster before him.
Just as Melpomene's desperate struggle seemed to reach its climax, Stefan's expression shifted. With a casual flick of his wrist, he delivered a resounding slap to the old man's head, the impact echoing through the devastated alley.
Just as Melpomene's storm reached its peak....winds screaming, debris tearing through the air.....Stefan's face changed.
The grin remained, but the playfulness faded.
With a flick of his wrist, so fast it barely registered, Stefan slapped Melpomene across the head.
(CRACK)
The sound rang out like a gunshot, echoing through the broken alley.
In an instant, the whirlwind collapsed. The roaring wind fell silent. Dust settled.
Melpomene's body went limp, crumpling in Stefan's grasp like a broken puppet. The power that once raged around him vanished, leaving only the old man's ragged breath and the blood trailing from his mouth.
His vision blurred, the world spinning.
Through fading eyes, he saw Stefan's face...twisted into that same mocking grin, eyes glinting like he'd just crushed a cockroach and enjoyed every second of it.
Melpomene's lips parted, trying to speak....but no words came.
Only darkness...And silence.
To be continued....