The air was thick with dust, swirling in dull shades of gray as Asmodeos stumbled through the narrow alley. Rough laughter echoed behind him, taunting and sharp. He knew those voices too well. Asmodeos could've ducked away, hidden in one of the many cracks and corners of the slums, but he refused. Pride, bitterness—something kept him rooted.
Turning around, he faced the group of boys just as they closed in.
"Hey, defective!" one sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Is today the day you finally awaken that 'hidden power' of yours?"
Asmodeos narrowed his eyes, fists clenched. "At least I'm not wasting time harassing people to feel strong," he spat back, a spark of defiance flashing in his eyes.
The boy's face twisted with anger. "Big talk for someone who'll be stuck here forever," he said, shoving Asmodeos hard. "Face it—you're nothing."
The impact sent him stumbling, but he gritted his teeth and straightened up, spitting a bit of blood from a split lip. "Better than a coward who needs backup just to feel tough," he shot back, despite knowing it would only make things worse.
A second boy stepped forward, grabbing Asmodeos by the collar and pulling him close. "You think you're brave, huh?" he sneered. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure you can't say a word next time."
Asmodeos just stared back, refusing to flinch, even as his ribs throbbed and his cheek stung from a fresh bruise. "One day, all of you will see," he muttered, voice low and steady. "One day, I'll be the one standing over you."
They just laughed and gave him a final shove before walking away, their mocking voices fading as they disappeared around the corner. Asmodeos stood still, breathing heavily, until they were out of sight. Rage boiled in him, and he could feel bitterness like a weight in his chest. One day, he'd make them pay. He didn't know how, but he'd find a way.
He forced himself to his feet and limped back toward his apartment, each step aching. The slums sprawled before him in gray and shadowed silence, the broken buildings and cracked sidewalks echoing the emptiness he felt inside. Past the slums, towering over the horizon, the Academy gleamed in the last light of day—a world away, shining and unreachable.
Is this really it? he thought, gritting his teeth as he looked at the Academy. Am I really nothing but their punching bag? Just some slum rat?
The question simmered in his mind as he made his way through the maze of twisted alleyways. His fingers curled tightly at his sides, his knuckles bone-white. Every insult, every cruel laugh echoed in his head, looping over and over. They think I'm helpless, he thought bitterly. They think I'll stay here, powerless, forever. The bitterness twisted in his chest, thick and heavy, until it felt like he was choking on it.
Back in his apartment, the silence pressed down like a weight. He stepped over the empty cans and scraps littering the floor, making his way to the single worn mattress that was his bed. On a crate beside it sat the photo frame, his parents' faces gazing back at him with gentle, faded smiles. He picked up the frame, his fingers tracing the outline of their faces.
"Wish you were here," he murmured softly. "Maybe… maybe things wouldn't be so messed up if you were."
He lay back, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His eyelids grew heavy, pulling him into an uneasy sleep—but peace was the last thing his dreams brought. Shadows coiled around him, mocking shapes twisting in his mind, their faces stretching into sneers and laughter, haunting his every step. When he tried to scream, the sound died in his throat, and the darkness seemed to seep into his skin, burrowing into his bones.
A sudden bark jolted him awake. He gasped, clutching his head as a wave of pain rolled through his skull. He could feel it pulsing, relentless, clawing through his mind. The pounding in his head intensified, a steady beat that refused to relent.
Through the cracked window, he spotted the culprit—a scruffy dog barking incessantly at a rat skittering across the alley below. Each sharp bark was like a needle stabbing into his head. He gritted his teeth, willing the pain to subside, but it only seemed to get worse, a deep, throbbing agony that refused to let him be.
"Shut up," he muttered, clenching his fists as he stared down at the dog. "Just… shut up!"
He grabbed the photo frame, gripping it tightly in his hand, and stumbled outside. The cold air bit into his skin, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on that dog, its bark echoing in his skull, each sound amplifying the pain. The dog was too busy chasing the rat to notice him, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the anger twist and coil within him.
Asmodeos froze for a moment, his mind reeling. The dog had done nothing to him—it was just a mangy creature, ignored and unloved, much like himself. For a brief moment, pity surfaced. It's just a dog, he thought, loosening his grip. But the pain was a relentless scream in his mind, demanding relief. His vision blurred at the edges, and his hand clenched tight once more, a cold fury taking hold.
A voice whispered at the back of his mind, urging him on. It's just a dog. Who's going to miss it?
He was barely aware of his own movements as he lifted the photo frame high and brought it down on the dog's head. The crack echoed in the quiet alley, and a strange, dark thrill shivered through him. The dog yelped, trying to scramble away, but he struck it again, harder this time, feeling the frame splinter under his grip. Each hit dulled the ache in his head, replacing it with something else—a rush, a relief he hadn't felt in as long as he could remember.
The barking stopped, replaced by a heavy, broken silence. Asmodeos looked down, his breath coming in ragged gasps, at the bloody mess he'd made. The sight filled him with something he couldn't quite explain—a twisted satisfaction, a sense of control, of power.
A slow smile crept across his face as he took in the scene, feeling a dark joy curl in his chest. It felt like a masterpiece, painted in shades of red, the release he'd craved without even realizing it.
He clenched his fists, a fierce resolve hardening within him. "I'll survive, he whispered, his voice a low growl in the empty alley. I'll survive no matter what it takes."