A/N:

Skipping the prologue won't harm your understanding of the story by any means, but still, I strongly suggest reading it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tsk, my dad doesn't want to buy me the new phone coming up this month; why should my life be this miserable!" shouted a young girl sitting in a school cafeteria toward what seems like her friend.

Hearing her complaints, I had an internal chuckle.

'Hehe! Miserable is a compelling word to use for a mere phone.'

Well, it's normal for some people to feel awful for not owning materialistic things like expensive clothes, new phones, cars... After all, everyone has his own expectation and standards; the word Miserable can mean something totally different between two individuals.

Somebody can feel humiliated for having an outdated phone, and somebody else never had one in the first place.

In her case, misery was expressed by not having what she desired; for me, grief is my existence itself, but wait a minute, A question might cross your mind reading my philosophy, "Why would this poor kid have such a negative view about his life?"

(A/N: his refers to the mc)

And I'd say this question will be well answered in the next few lines of my story.

...

My name isn't significant enough to be mentioned; however, my circumstances are relatively interesting, to say the least; I was a teenager from city B, smart, short, and weak framed, living in arguably the worst neighborhood in the whole city.

It seems like a recipe for disaster already, right? But wait till you hear what's coming next.

The parents, as the primary pillar for raising a child, especially in such a rough environment, for me, wasn't exactly all that, in a matter of fact, I might say they did the opposite.

An alcoholic, abusive father, and a cheating, coldhearted stepmother that treated me like garbage, was all the food I had on my plate, but this delicious meal didn't fill my belly; instead, it fills my body and mind with bruises and eternal wounds; hitting me was the way my drunk father emptied his sorrows from losing his hand in the construction site, while my stepmother traumatized me from the human trust.

I often wondered how can she casually say in a smiley face I love you but at the same time fool your own words.

Still, after my father exit to the bar, another man enters the house;

Moving on, my school was predictably terrible; smoking, drugs, and fighting was the expected behavior, and contrary to what you might think about me; I wasn't the quiet kid in the back of the class, but I wasn't an overly important student either.

Faking my personality was my greatest skill; A lackey I was and a lackey I will always be, thus, getting the protection I need at the expense of lowering my head.

Nevertheless, my unsatisfaction toward my life didn't come from my situation, rather than the abyssal emptiness residing deeply inside my soul, compromising my ability to express or feel human emotions.

Still, an idea changed everything.

Precisely after my second year of junior high, A thought traversed my mind, ultimately making my life gain a reason, "What will happen after death??"

I have thought about this topic for a long time. With each day passing, death seems more and more appealing, till my unsaturate curiosity turned to an obsession, hence, making me seriously think about finding out ahead of time.

A lot of people knew that something was wrong with me, but nobody could say anything; at my school, my grades in nearly every subject were perfect; with my friends, no one could mock my passion because I always showed more interest in ordinary things, in-home, I exposed my step-mother resulting on a horrible incident, as my father killed them, and suicided shortly after.

And after my third year, I decided to learn more, search for any information that leads me to understand better the otherworld, or the things that most people call "Myths."

I spent five years looking and learning, and before I know it, I became one of the most famous, well-respected university teachers in mythology science in the whole world;

But the day where my research will hit a plateau was imminent, and that's exactly what happened; books no longer nourished my curiosity, and again, the world seemed dark and dim.

Days went by.

Going through my emails, I spotted a new email titled with "Dark history," my interest peeked, and without hesitation I clicked on it.

Instantly books started to download inside my pc, like a surging river.

Life brightened for the second time in my life; data that I never thought existed was inside each book.

Following that, I called the University and retired at age twenty three to focus on my studies.

Another three years passed. Today, I finished the library of books; the number of dark arts and practices inside my head was astonishingly countless; however, one experiment had my mind starving from thinking through the whole few years.

"The sacrifice vers 3."

Surrendering ten thousand lives in one go for a chance of meeting the mighty Satan.

I knew that the sender of this private collection wanted a particular outcome, and I probably will give it to him, as my obsession and the emptiness of my soul can't be stopped.

"Click" For the first time, I emailed back the sender, saying, "What's your plan?"

A month passed before any reply was issued; I sleeplessly waited till my nails and hair grew, and precisely on the day of my birthday, he emailed back, "9:30 tonight, Meet me at XX location."

I grinned and cried out after reading the email, rushing to the location before It's even time.

"If he/she can give such books this easily, how much knowledge would be inside such a brain!" I thought, riding my motorcycle.

I restlessly waited for two hours, and a black limousine stopped under my sigh before the figures of men in black got out of it.

They stood in a linear line and made a path for me, as their hands pointed to inside the car.

The event screamed "Danger," but my subconscious was talking to a man that finds death thrilling; with such criteria, how could I feel fear? No! How could I feel human emotions all along?

Riding the car, they blindfolded me, and took me straight to a building.

I met several people inside, without telling us the purpose; they trained us, like some kind of assassins.

"Was this all they wanted? To make puppet killers?" I wondered.

After some months, they started preaching their deity to us, Satan himself; seemingly, I concluded that they didn't send me the books to enlighten my soul; they only sent it as an ideology to pull people into their religion.

Disappointment was all I could think of at that moment.

Nevertheless, A plan formed in my head, if I can use this secret organization, maybe, I can achieve my goal.

Following that, I falsified my beliefs in front of them and picked up this new theology; if they wanted a mission to be accomplished, I would try my hardest to do it perfectly; if their newcomers, I will eat their brains and pull them to the organization.

In the span of seven years, I finally achieved a position inside the real management office.

I became the executive chef of the whole organization, but I knew, of course, I was just a doll under the powerful businessman above.

Yet, this position was enough for me to accomplish my plans.

Using a vicious plot, they suggested to leake

Some critical information that can lead to war;

Hence, behind the scenes, I employed the organization's power to work behind the scenes while they were busy intensifying the conflict.

The war led to a bigger fight, and in last, that year was noted in the history books as the year world war three began.

"Kill or be killed," every child and adult knew these sentence.

...

War continued for months; the deaths trespassed the fifthy million mark, and the actual culprit was none other than the organization.

But my plan still didn't finish; using the building chaos, I set up bombs in the organization headquarters and drew the ring of the sacrifice precisely as I learned from the book.

"BOOM"

Screams filled the space, tens of kilometers of land blew up, precisely ten thousand people died in the historical explosion, as I counted them personally before.

But nothing happened; no one showed up to reward my painstaking efforts.

'At least it was worth trying,'

I felt, as I looked at the mountains of dead bodies under my sharp gaze.

"Pft! Should I be rewarded for exterminating such evil organization on my judgment day? Wait, Is there one in the first place!" I gaped.

However, I'm going to find out soon enough, after killing my self and ending this emptiness.

"I will know the truth."

And I did.