The night air was thick with ash and cold, swirling silently around the ruins of a city that once sparkled with life. Broken glass crunched beneath Ethan's boots as he stepped cautiously through the remnants of the place he once called home. The scent of smoke and decay clawed at his nostrils, reminding him that nothing here had survived the darkness — not even hope.
The moon hung low and pale in the sky, casting twisted shadows over crumbling walls and shattered statues. Among these ruins, Ethan moved like a ghost — silent, unseen, yet burning with a quiet fury that felt like wildfire inside his chest.
His heart thudded heavily with every step, but it wasn't just the beating of his heart; it was the pulse of the cursed power that now consumed him, a dark flame that both strengthened and tormented his soul. It whispered promises of strength and whispered warnings of madness. But Ethan welcomed it — this was the only power he had left.
He stopped by a collapsed stone fountain, the water long since dried up. A faint breeze stirred the withered petals of a single white flower clinging stubbornly to life. It reminded him of Irelia — her gentle smile, the light in her eyes, the warmth of her touch. Those memories stabbed him with a pain so raw it nearly buckled his knees.
"This city… this world…" he murmured, voice cracked but steady, "betrayed me. They betrayed us."
His gaze lifted to the horizon, where the distant towers of the noble district pierced the night like jagged teeth. It was there that the puppeteers of his misery lived — wrapped in their silks and lies, safe behind walls fortified by greed and fear.
Tonight, Ethan's purpose was clear.
He moved like a shadow through deserted streets, every step heavy with memories he wished to bury. The place where his family's estate once stood was now a twisted ruin, burnt to ashes and forgotten by the world. The very ground beneath his feet was soaked in the blood of his past — the blood of those who had once called themselves his kin.
He recalled the moment it all collapsed:
The deceitful smile of Lord Varlen, who promised protection but instead sold his family to ruin.
The cold gaze of Captain Aldric, who turned his sword away when Ethan's father begged for mercy.
The cruel laughter of his childhood friends as they whispered rumors that shattered his reputation and left him friendless.
All of them had smiled when he fell.
All of them had looked away when he was crushed.
Ethan's breath caught in his throat as he reached the gates of the noble quarter.
A group of figures stood there — cloaked nobles and soldiers, faces illuminated by the flickering light of torches.
His old enemies.
The traitors.
They had gathered in arrogant celebration, drinking wine and boasting of how the "traitor's son" was now nothing but a forgotten corpse.
Unseen, Ethan watched them. His heart beat a rhythm of cold fire.
For a moment, he let himself feel the weight of loneliness pressing on his chest, the bitter taste of loss flooding his senses.
But then, his eyes hardened.
The curse inside him flared to life, and with it came a voice — cold, ancient, relentless.
"You will pay."
Without warning, Ethan stepped from the shadows.
The laughter around him stopped. The air grew thick with tension.
Eyes widened as they recognized him — or rather, what he had become.
Gone was the bright-eyed boy they had scorned. In his place stood a figure cloaked in darkness, eyes burning with red and silver light, his presence chilling the very air.
The leader, Lord Varlen, sneered. "Look who's come crawling back. The broken boy with nothing left."
Ethan's voice was a low growl. "I'm no longer a boy. And I am not broken."
With a sudden movement, shadows erupted from Ethan's form, coiling and striking like vipers. Screams shattered the night as the nobles fell, paralyzed by fear and dark magic.
One by one, he confronted each of them.
Varlen's smug grin twisted into terror as he was pinned against a wall by unseen forces.
Captain Aldric's hand reached for his sword — but it slipped from his grasp and clattered uselessly to the ground.
Even the soldiers who had laughed at Ethan's downfall trembled, their bravado crushed beneath the weight of their past sins.
Ethan's eyes burned with cold fire as he whispered their crimes aloud — each word a blade.
"You watched my family fall and did nothing.""You turned your back when I needed you most.""You rejoiced in my pain."
The cursed power coursed through him, and with it, a merciless justice.
But with every act of vengeance, a piece of Ethan's soul withered.
He was no longer human — not fully. The curse that had given him strength had taken his warmth, his hope.
When the last of them lay defeated, Ethan stood alone amidst the wreckage.
His breath came ragged, his body trembling — but his eyes were clear.
The city was silent once more.
Only the cold wind answered his whispered vow.
"This is only the beginning."
Because revenge was not enough.He would make them all pay — not just with fear, but with the truth.
But beneath the rage, a single aching question gnawed at him:
What would become of his own soul in this darkness?