It was the day before Daemon was arrested for his framed crimes. The art classroom was filled with the smell of paint and the sound of soft jazz music playing in the background. Easels were set up around the room, and students were quietly working on their projects. At one of the easels sat Daemon, intensely focused on his painting, while Lily, at the easel next to him, occasionally stole glances in his direction.
Daemon was a mystery to most of his classmates. With his dark, brooding presence and exceptional talent, he was often seen as unapproachable. However, there was one person who managed to penetrate his cold exterior Gina.
A beautiful girl, 5'5" with brown ponytail hair, blue eyes, and a curvy figure, walked into the classroom. She set up her own easel before beginning her work, Her kind nature and genuine interest in art had made it easier for him to lower his guard around her.
While Daemon mixed his paints, his thoughts wandered. Despite his usual cold demeanor, there was something about Gina that put him at ease. Maybe it was her unwavering kindness, or perhaps it was the way she seemed to genuinely care without demanding anything in return.
After a couple of moments, the girl shyly spoke up. "Ace, your painting looks amazing. You always make everything look so effortless."
The nickname "Ace" was given to Daemon because he was the best in the class, always coming first in every competition they had.
Daemon replied without looking up, "Thanks, Gina. Just trying to capture the light right."
Gina smiled. "You're really talented. I wish I had your skill."
Daemon who was still focused on his painting said, "You're doing fine. It just takes practice."
While Daemon was cold to others around him and didn't let many people into his inner circle, Gina was someone he felt at ease with.
Gina looked at Daemon hesitantly. "So, I was thinking... maybe we could grab a coffee after class? There's this new café that just opened up nearby."
Her offer of coffee lingered in the air, I hope he says yes, Gina admitted to herself, her optimism shining through despite his usual responses. It would be nice to spend time together, to talk about art or anything he's passionate about.
Daemon answered absently, "Coffee? I usually just go home and keep working on my stuff." 'I really don't have time. I really need to finish this drawing. I don't know what it is, but I'm subconsciously drawn to it,' he thought.
She sees only the surface. What lies beneath me would only be disappoint.
Gina tried to sound casual. "Well, it could be a nice break. You know, to relax and maybe talk about art... or anything."
Daemon still painting glanced at her briefly. "I don't really do breaks. I've got a lot of projects I'm working on."
The painting in front of Daemon depicted him standing on a desolate, moonlit cliff, his silhouette sharply defined against the night sky. His eyes glowed with an eerie, cold light as he clutched a locket with his sister's picture inside. Surrounding him, spectral figures of past victims emerged from the shadows, reaching out with sorrowful expressions. The atmosphere was tense and foreboding, with the wind howling and dark clouds swirling overhead.
Gina, disappointed but trying to hide it, said, "Oh, right. Of course. You're really dedicated."
Daemon nodded, returning to his painting. "Yeah, I guess."
Gina, after a pause, softly asked, "Do you ever think about doing something... other than art?"
Daemon shrugged. "Not really. It's what I'm good at. Why?"
Gina sighed, realizing he wasn't getting it. "No reason. Just curious. Anyway, I guess I should get back to my painting."
Daemon, not looking up, said, "Yeah. Probably a good idea."
Gina decided to give up and focused on her canvas. "Alright, then." she said.
Gina stealing glances at him while she worked. He's such a mystery, but there's something about him that draws me in. Maybe it's the way he's so focused on his art, or the intensity in his eyes.
After a moment of silence, Daemon said, "Your shading's off a bit on the left side. Try blending it more."
Gina glanced at her work, then back at him. "Thanks, Ace. I'll fix it."
It was only later that day, as Daemon walked home, he couldn't shake the feeling of Gina's disappointment. She had always been kind to him, offering a warmth he rarely experienced in university. He thought back to her invitation and wondered if he had been too harsh.
...
Daemon looked down, his hand dropping, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and realization, If he had seen the future, he might have reacted differently this mightn't .have happened.
Did I really cause her death? She tried to help me... and Ethan said she knew who caused it,
Daemon shook his head and focused. "Sorry about Gina, but I didn't cause her death. She made the decision... to help me."
"That's all you have to say? If you had just agreed to one of her outings and told her you didn't like her, maybe it would have been better and this wouldn't have happened," Ethan retorted.
Daemon eyes dropped again, looking back, he realized...that if he had accept the office she might have been able to tell him what was about to happen to him.
"Ethan, this isn't the way. Gina wouldn't want this," Daemon said firmly.
"You don't know what she would want anymore," Ethan replied, his voice low and charged with suppressed fury. "You took everything from me."
Daemon narrowed his eyes at Ethan. "Justice is a fickle concept, Ethan. You should know that yourself." he said.
"You think you know justice? You have no idea what it feels like to lose someone you love and know it's because of you," Ethan spat as he started to feel nauseous..
Daemon's eyes narrowed again, his voice as cold as ice. "I've seen more loss than you can imagine. But Gina made her choice. She believed in something greater than herself. Can you say the same?"
Ethan's fists tightened, his muscles tensing as he struggled to control his rage. "I don't care about your justifications. All I know is that she's gone, and you're still here."
"And what will you do with that anger, Ethan? Will you let it consume you, as it has consumed so many before you?" Daemon's eyes seemed to pierce through Ethan's soul, searching for the answer within.
"I'll find a way to make you pay," Ethan hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "For everything." he began to feel lightheaded.
Daemon sighed, a hint of weariness creeping into his otherwise stoic demeanor. "Revenge won't bring her back, Ethan. It will only drag you down into the darkness."
"Then I'll embrace the darkness," Ethan replied, his resolve hardening with each word. "If it means avenging Gina, I'll embrace it with open arms."
"So that means I have to cut it from its source before that can happen. Before I send you on your way... where was she buried?"
"Even though I shouldn't tell you, she would want me to... she was buried in the main cemetery in Nova Veritas City," Ethan said.
While he appreciated the truth, Daemon suddenly felt overwhelmed by something, his eyes becoming cold and merciless. He reached out with his free hand, gripping Ethan by the throat. Ethan's struggles grew weaker as Daemon's grip tightened.
Daemon drew his raven sword, which began to glow with a deathly silver light. Despite their panic, the vines surrounding Ethan could do nothing to stop him. As he plunged the sword into Ethan's chest, Ethan's eyes widened in horror as his soul was ripped from his body.
Daemon then dropped the raven sword, pulling out Ethan's black and green soul from his lifeless body, a ghostly, writhing form clutched in his hand. Ethan's body crumbled to the ground, lifeless.
He glanced at Ethan's lifeless bod. 'Is this really the right thing to do? No' Daemon thought, steeling himself. 'This is necessary. If I don't do this, his rage will only grow, and slowly down my revenge.'
Daemon slowly brought Ethan's soul to his mouth and consumed it, the spectral light fading as he absorbed its essence. His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction.
Daemon whispered with a satisfied smirk. "One less abomination to plague the world."
"Congratulations, survivor, on consuming your first soul and gaining the ability of..."
The system's voice jolted him from his reverie. He barely comprehended what he had done or what had happened, thinking back to his death and how his moral compass he deduced had shifted to allow soul consumption.
Suddenly, before Daemon could check the system, a very loud scream made him cover his ears, feeling dizzy.
"Ahh!"
When he looked up, he saw a creature, the source of the scream, pushing him back with its force.
The vampire figure was slender, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Her skin was pale and almost translucent, with faint veins of dark energy. Her eyes were large and luminous, devoid of pupils or irises, emitting a haunting, silvery glow that pierced through the darkness. Long, silvery-white hair cascaded down her back in tangled waves, moving as if stirred by an unseen breeze. Her features were delicate yet unsettling, with high cheekbones and a slender, elongated face. An mist enveloped her, shimmering faintly with silvery tendrils that danced and curled around her form. The air around her carried a faint scent of decay and the chill of death.
'Now what the hell kind of vampire is this?' Daemon thought. Then, looking through the system, he saw it was a screaming banshee.
As Daemon finished with the system, he suddenly sensed a very strong energy appear, silhouetting against the night.
The figure had a faint smirk on his lips and disappeared into dark black mist, flowing silently toward the banshee. Her banshee senses tingled with the presence of an intruder.
The banshee's eyes widened in shock as the figure materialized behind her, his presence a cold whisper in the air.
The man's hand shot forward, a blur of movement. He clamped his hand over the banshee's mouth, muffling her scream even as it vibrated against his hand. It didn't stop his hold on her.
The banshee struggled, her eyes blazing with fury. The man's other hand moved with surgical precision, a silver dagger gleaming in the moonlight. His hand plunged into the banshee's heart. Her eyes widened further, then slowly dimmed.
The man pulled out his hand, and the banshee's body slumped silently to the floor. He wiped his hand clean of blood with a smirk on his lips as he muttered, "Never liked banshees."