All was different now. In that single, shattering moment, Akira's world came crashing down—and with it, his fierce desire for vengeance began.
The air inside was thick and heavy, hard to breathe, as if the room itself was waiting with bated breath. His father lay on the living room floor, not moving, blood pooling under him. His mother hardly breathed, her chest rising and falling in short, ragged breaths. Three men stood over them.
STARS.
They were clearly powerful, giving off a dark energy around them. Akira stopped moving, his mind trying to understand what he was seeing.
"Huh?!"
"Mom. Dad."
"NOOO!"
His voice trembled and weakened as he dropped to his knees. His body trembled with rage and fear, and his mind went blank, trying to comprehend the injustice before him.
One of the STARS stared at him, his cold eyes sparkling with amusement as they met Akira's. The man smirked evilly, his voice oozing with derision.
"That's what occurs when you get your hands on things you don't need to. like your father did."
Something within Akira snapped.
His fists were clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. His vision blurred with tears, but his anger was stronger than his sorrow. He was beyond thinking, beyond fearing—trembling with a violent, seething rage.
"Why?" he shouted, his voice cracking. "Why did you do this? What did they ever do to you?!"
"YOU BASTARDS!!"
With a guttural shout, Akira attacked them, every muscle in his body driven by rage. But he was merely a regular human—unawakened, no match for the superior might of the STARS.
Then, suddenly, one of them grabbed him around the neck and lifted him up as if he were feather-light. Akira kicked and clawed at the man's firm grasp, but it never relaxed. STAR smiled in a sadistic manner, increasing his hold until Akira's vision blurred and he felt pain in his lungs from lack of breath.
"Pathetic," the man muttered icily before banging Akira against the wall.
The impact expelled the air from his chest, pain exploding in his ribs. He collapsed to the earth, panting, his body contorted in agony. Through the haze of pain, all he could visualize were his parents—broken, dead.
"No. no. please. Mom! Dad!" he cried, his voice trembling with terror.
The STARS glanced at one another, their faces blank. One of them stepped forward, his voice cold and patronizing. "Your life is not valuable anymore, boy. Leave here if you want to live."
"Keep this to yourself," another intervened, his voice full of contempt.
"Forget?" Akira snarled, his voice rough but resolute. "How can I forget? They are my family!"
The STARS started to leave, and their footsteps echoed in the silence. But Akira had more work to do. With all the energy he had remaining, he pushed himself up from the ground, his eyes blazing with rage.
"I. will. kill you!" he growled, his voice rough and gravelly. "I swear I'll hunt you down, and you'll NEVER be able to escape me!"
The leader STAR stopped and looked back over his shoulder with a look of self satisfaction that made Akira uneasy. "Good luck with that. if you live for a long time."
"Why?!" Akira shouted, his voice trembling. "What do you get from harming them?! Is that what it is to have powers? To murder like that?!"
The STAR laughed grimly, his eyes flashing with cruelty. "You must learn, boy. Innocence does not matter in this world. Power is what matters most." And with that, they left him, alone in the ruins of his own life.
"NO!" he screamed at the empty room, his shout echoing off the walls of the still house. "I won't let you get away with this! I'll make you pay for each drop of blood!"
Yet there was no one present to listen to his cry. The grief was too much for him, and he collapsed onto his knees, his body trembling with weeping.
Then darkness overtook him.
Akira sat up abruptly, his body covered in sweat, and his heart racing. The pungent odor of disinfectant filled his nostrils, and the constant beep of a heart monitor served to remind him that he was in the hospital. His head pounded as he attempted to sit up, and the events of that evening flooded back into his mind like a tidal wave. The door opened with a creak, and Hiroshi went in. He was a tall, thin man who seemed calm. Hiroshi had been a good friend of Akira's father for many years. His clean black hair and thin glasses made him look wise, but his face showed sadness.
"Akira," Hiroshi said quietly, sitting down next to the bed. "I'm so sorry you had to endure this."
Akira's voice was rough, and his eyes were concerned. "What's wrong, Hiroshi? My family.?"
Hiroshi drew a deep breath, his face solemn. "Your father uncovered something. something huge. It was regarding an organization—a group of demonic humans with unthinkable goals.He stumbled upon one of their stashes, and they quieted him."
Akira's chest was constricted, and he was panting. "No. no. no. What about my mother? Where is she?"
Hiroshi's gaze broke away, his words barely above a whisper. "She lives...but in a coma. We had a STAR brought in, one who could heal, but. the wounds were too deep. They. they did terrible things to her, Akira. Things I hardly dare to put into words."
Akira's fingers tightened on the sheets, turning his knuckles white. "What do you mean? What did happen to her?"
Hiroshi hesitated, and his voice trembled. "They...they hurt her very badly. They...raped her.And then they forced her to eat a poisonous plant named Evil Aeia."
"WHAT?! Akira yelled, his rage and grief trembling his frame. "How can this be real?! Tell me that this is a nightmare!"
"Akira." Hiroshi said regretfully. "I wish it were otherwise. But it is so. And there is something more you must be told. Your father's wealth is yours now. You can live a life that other people can only dream of. Do not waste it on vengeance. It will only bring you more suffering."
Akira's hands shook so hard, his fingernails bit into his palms until blood streamed onto the sheets. His chest hurt, his head shrieked, and his heart broke. Then something else came something icy, something terrible.
"What was the organization's name?" Akira's voice was disconcertingly even, devoid of emotion.
Hiroshi swallowed hard. "Nightfall."
A name soaked in blood. A group of demonic humans, murderers, traitors monsters.The room was quiet. Then, gradually, Akira smiled—a peculiar, vacant smile.
"I comprehend," he stated, swinging his legs over the bed. The discomfort in his body no longer concerned him.
Hiroshi's eyes flew open. "Akira, you—"
"I'll kill them," Akira cut in, his voice serene but weighted with an immovable resolve.
Hiroshi caught his wrist. "Listen to me! They are too strong—"
"I'll kill them."
No hesitation, no question.
Akira's fists clenched, his body trembling—not with frailty, but with pure, unyielding hatred.
"One at a time, I'll make them suffer," he whispered, his voice holding the weight of an unbreakable curse.
"I won't rest until there's nothing but their screams left."
It was at that time that Akira Shoto died.
In his place, something else was born—something much more horrifying. Hiroshi rose with an unhappy but resigned face. "I cannot stop you if this is what you wish to do. But heed this, Akira—vengeance will devour you. I just hope you can channel this rage into something other than hate."
He stopped, then continued, "As for the police and the situation. I will take care of that. You can't manage it now."
"Thanks," Akira replied, his tone hollow. Hiroshi nodded and set Akira's phone and things on the bedside table.
"Call me if you need anything." He left the room, and the door closed softly after him. Akira was by himself in the silence, his mind a jumble of anger and resolve.
He reached for his phone, his hands steady despite the upheaval within him.
"I'll track them down, one by one—until their suffering drowns out even their final dying whispers."