The oppressive heat of the midday sun beat down on the arid landscape, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of a forgotten world. Earnest Samael Creed stood motionless amid the chaos of the battlefield, his pale green eyes—almost silver in the harsh light—narrowed as he scanned the horizon. The acrid scent of gunpowder and burning metal filled the air, mingling with the cries of wounded soldiers and the distant rumble of artillery. But to Earnest, these sounds were nothing more than a distant hum, an unwelcome background noise in the theater of war where he played his part with the precision of a machine.
He moved with a fluid grace, his tall, lithe form cutting through the smoke like a specter. At twenty-one, Earnest had seen more combat than most men twice his age, his body hardened by years of rigorous training and relentless conflict. Yet, despite the scars that marred his olive skin, despite the pain that should have accompanied them, he felt nothing. The inability to feel pain was both a gift and a curse—one that he had come to accept as part of his nature.
With each calculated step, Earnest embodied the cold, detached efficiency of a predator. His comrades viewed him with a mixture of awe and fear, whispering tales of his exploits behind his back. The way he could dispatch an enemy with a single, precise strike. The way he never flinched, never hesitated, even in the face of overwhelming odds. But most of all, they spoke of his eyes—those pale, unfeeling eyes that seemed to see through the very soul of a person, leaving them exposed and vulnerable.
As he surveyed the scene before him, the memories of his past began to surface, unbidden and unwelcome. The ghostly image of his father, Maverick Creed, appeared in his mind's eye, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing but a joke, Earnest. A pathetic excuse for a son." The words echoed in his mind, but they held no power over him anymore. They were merely a reminder of the darkness that had shaped him, molded him into the man he had become.
His thoughts drifted further back, to a time when he was still a boy—a boy who had known nothing but cruelty at the hands of his family. The memory was vivid, as clear as the day it had happened. He was twelve years old, standing in the shadow of his father's parents, his pale green eyes devoid of any emotion as he watched them choke on the poison he had carefully prepared. It was his first experiment, his first taste of power, and it had been exhilarating. He had not flinched as they gasped for breath, as their bodies convulsed in agony. He had only felt a cold satisfaction, a sense of justice in their suffering.
The memory faded as Earnest's attention snapped back to the present. A movement in the distance caught his eye, and without hesitation, he raised his weapon. His target was clear—a figure moving stealthily through the smoke, trying to flank his position. Earnest's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk as he took aim. A single shot rang out, the sound cutting through the din of battle like a knife. The figure crumpled to the ground, lifeless, before it had even realized what had happened.
Efficient. Unerring. Deadly. These were the words often used to describe him, and he lived up to them with every action, every decision. But there was more to Earnest than the soldier, more than the cold, unfeeling killer that his comrades saw. Beneath the surface, there was a mind that never rested, a mind that was always calculating, always planning. And today, his plans were about to take a new direction.
As the last of the enemy forces were subdued, Earnest's commanding officer approached him, his expression a mixture of admiration and wariness. "Creed," he said, his voice gruff. "You've been selected for a special assignment."
Earnest turned to face him, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What kind of assignment?"
"A new project," the officer replied. "The army's sponsoring you to beta-test a new virtual reality game. Cyber Steam Online. They say it's unlike anything else out there. They want someone with your... particular skills to assess it."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Earnest's mind began to turn, analyzing the situation from every angle. A VR game? It seemed trivial, almost laughable, considering the life he led. But the fact that the army was involved suggested there was more to it than met the eye. And Earnest had learned long ago that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.
"I'll do it," he said after a moment's consideration. His voice was flat, devoid of any inflection. It was a decision made not out of curiosity or excitement, but out of the cold, calculating logic that guided his every move.
The officer nodded, though his expression betrayed a hint of relief. "You'll receive the necessary equipment and instructions tomorrow. Until then, you're on leave."
Earnest didn't respond, his mind already racing ahead, contemplating the possibilities that this new assignment could bring. As he turned away, ready to return to his quarters, another memory flickered at the edge of his consciousness—a memory of a night long ago, when he had first met the woman who would change everything.
It had been a cold, rainy evening when he was twelve years old, wandering the streets aimlessly after escaping the clutches of his family. The rain had soaked through his clothes, the cold biting at his skin, but he had felt nothing. He had been lost, both physically and mentally, when a car had pulled up beside him. The window rolled down, and he found himself staring into the piercing eyes of a woman who radiated power and elegance.
Marisol Argento. The name was whispered in the underworld, spoken with a mixture of fear and respect. She had looked at him, really looked at him, and something had passed between them—an understanding, a recognition of the darkness that lurked within both of them. Without a word, she had opened the door, and he had climbed in, knowing that his life was about to change.
That night, he had been introduced to the Argento family, a family as dark and twisted as his own, yet different in one crucial way—they had accepted him for what he was. And among them was Gracelyn, a girl only a year older than him, with a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart as cold as ice. She had been the first person to truly see him, to understand him, and in time, she had become the only person he cared for.
The memory of Gracelyn's face, her dark eyes filled with a sadistic glee as she dissected a small animal with the precision of a surgeon, flashed through his mind. She had always been a genius, a prodigy in the field of bio-science, and her cruelty matched his own. They had grown up together in the shadows of the Argento mansion, their bond deepening with each twisted game they played, each dark secret they shared.
And now, as he prepared to enter this new virtual world, he knew that she would be there with him, as she always was. They were bound together by the darkness within them, a bond that could not be broken, no matter how many worlds they passed through.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the battlefield in a deep, blood-red glow, Earnest made his way back to his quarters. The shadows stretched out before him, long and menacing, but they held no fear for him. He welcomed the darkness—it was where he thrived, where he belonged. And soon, it would be where he exacted his revenge.