"Aah, I guess this is the end, huh," muttered Harris as blood dripped from his mouth.
A man slumped against the walls of a dark alley, bathed in a single ray of moonlight that pierced through the surrounding darkness. It was an ironic sight—a man who had dwelled in shadows his entire life, now met his demise in the embrace of the most beautiful light.
"Hey, punk! What are you mumbling about, eh?" asked Thug A.
"Why don't we savor the pleasure of finishing him slowly? After all, he allowed the girl to escape, so let's prolong his suffering," suggested Thug B, the one who had wounded Harris with a concealed knife.
"His vital organs took a hit from your sneak attack. He'll likely die within minutes," asserted Thug C, though a hint of disdain tainted his voice when mentioning the ambush.
"Oi, you bastards! Can't you see a man is dying here? Pfft..." Blood spurted from Harris's mouth.
"You see, today you three were quite fortunate with your sneak attack. Otherwise, one of you might have been my first kill."
"Oooh, a high schooler yearning for his first kill. How intimidating," mocked Thug A, interrupting Harris.
Ignoring the interruption, Harris continued his monologue, "You know, after a long time, my desire to simply vanish from this world resurfaced. I used to play the role of a delinquent, thinking I was like those vigilantes who fight against scum like you. I even followed the footsteps of my idol, the Dark Knight, and embraced his most important rule: never kill. Crossing that line would have made me no different from the criminals I despised. But all that idealistic notion of vigilantism and following a code... it all crumbled today." Harris took a pause, and the three thugs observed him, as if seeking wisdom from a dying elder.
"My life has been a pathetic existence. I've lost everyone I've loved, time and time again, while I helplessly watched from the sidelines. Not a day went by without my longing for death. I embarked on this vigilante journey, hoping that one day I'd be stabbed or shot to death, just like today. But today feels different; today, I thirst for blood. Anyway, after I started this vigilantism, I saved a precious little girl from a molester. However, in my foolishness, I left him alive and instructed the girl to call the police. That scumbag went to jail. I've done the same countless times, but that time felt different. The girl I saved was my neighbor, and she discovered my secret. Despite that, she kept my secret safe and visited me one autumn evening. With a radiant smile, she called me 'Big Brother' and thanked me for being her hero. At that moment, something changed within me, and I started taking my role as a Dark Knight seriously." A tear trickled down Harris's cheek as he recalled the little girl he had rescued on one of his adventures.
"Her name was Lily. She used to come and play with me every evening, gradually pulling me out of the pit of darkness I had submerged myself in. She reminded me of someone I had lost, and I wanted to protect her, to redeem myself from the guilt that consumed me. But life never really goes as planned, does it? Yesterday, the same bastard who attempted to molest Lily was released from jail, and his first act was to target her again. And once again, I failed to save someone I cared about. Today, when I arrived at my apartment, I saw a swarm of police outside her house. After discreetly observing,
I saw her lifeless body on the floor. Lily was gone. The molester, the same one who committed this heinous act, had been arrested once more. But what about Lily? She called for her hero, but he wasn't there. I can feel the same despair and rage consuming my mind. It was my fault for leaving that scum alive; otherwise, Lily would still be alive. I'll never see her smile again. What's the point of playing the hero and adhering to the code of no killing? It became utterly meaningless to me. Today, I made a vow to myself that I will never spare any of you scum, and I'll ensure that even your ancestors suffer my wrath beyond the grave. Ha, I guess that promise will remain empty." The three thugs wore complex expressions, as they absorbed the intense emotions in the boy's voice. However, that was all there was to it, and they silently thanked their luck for the success of their surprise attack, or else this alley would have truly become their graveyard.
"In my short seventeen years of life, I have countless regrets and guilt. Yet, even so, I feel relieved to be dying. I have yet to take a life and achieve any significant accomplishments in my vigilantism career. I suppose I could be an honorary member of the Justice League, hahaha," laughed Harris.
"I guess I'm a hero till the very end, huh? But in these final moments, I've come to a profound realization, huff... huff..." Harris panted as his life force began to wane.
"People scorn death, but it's living that truly brings pain," murmured Harris in a low voice as he took his last breath.
A haunting silence settled over the dark alley, with three individuals encircling a lifeless corpse. "This boy was a hero, and he fell by my blades. There's an inexplicable satisfaction when a hero crumbles. The Green Goblin was right; people love nothing more than seeing heroes fall..." Thug B licked his knives, indulging in an act reminiscent of a B-grade villain.
**********
'I believe I died, but why can I still think? Isn't death meant to be the ultimate end? And here I thought that I would find relief from the torment we call life.'
'Where the hell am I, and what the hell is this? Am I in hell or heaven, or is this the so-called afterlife? It's pitch black here, and none of my five senses are functioning. It feels like floating in an endless void, just as described in those comics.' Lost in his thoughts about his current predicament, Harris's soul manifestation was gradually drawn into an energy whirlpool, materializing in the blank space. Unaware of his impending crisis, Harris remained engrossed in his own musings. As the soul was completely absorbed into the whirlpool, it vanished as if it had never existed in the first place.
**********
In a dimly lit chamber, fourteen cloaked figures gathered, concealing their identities. Seven of them donned masks numbered from one to seven, seated upon thrones encircling a round table, while the remaining seven guarded each entrance to the room. It was evident that the guards wore distinctive, pitch-black full-body armor, with helmets adorned with dark visors emanating green flames.
"Those damn angels! They disrupted the ritual at the eleventh hour. If they hadn't, we would have succeeded in summoning the primordial fiend and unleashing the Asura army from the desolate grounds," lamented one of the figures seated on the throne.
"Well, at the very least, we managed to bring forth the Gate of Yama on the central continent," another added.
"Yes, but the question remains: since we failed to acquire the Primordial Fiend, where did all that energy from sacrificing a million humans go? I am certain the angels did not store or utilize the energy, and we didn't summon or obtain the Primordial Fiend either."
"That's the same question the gods must be pondering. We must uncover the outcome of that summoning before those angel bastards do. Everyone must exert every effort to find the result; otherwise, it could spell tragedy for us, the Fiends."
"Yeah, yeah, who died and made you the leader?"
"You..."
"Enough! By the way, Nephilim, why do you believe it's a summoning and not the creation of an artifact from that energy?"
"Well, if it were an artifact, its creation and appearance would undoubtedly draw the attention of the entire continent or even the world. That would render our efforts to locate the treasure practically useless, as everyone would be aware of it. It's not that I don't believe in the creation of an artifact; such an occurrence might take thousands of years before it surfaces. I simply don't wish to miss the opportunity if it's a summoning. In that case, no one would be aware of it, not even the heavenly seers."
"Hmmm," the rest of the individuals nodded, acknowledging Nephilim's explanation.