[Warning: Gore]
The rain fell in sheets, but it wasn't real rain - not the kind that nature produces. It was a product of the artificial sky aboard the spaceship, designed to mimic the storm's relentless pattern.
Beneath it, in the damp shadows of an alley in Oradale's Red Light District, stood a young man. He looked frail, his thin frame almost lost in the dark night, the neon glow of the district casting eerie reflections on the wet pavement.
He was alone, yet his mind was crowded with purpose. He had come here for one reason, and one reason only: revenge.
Staring at the carnage, his chest was heaving. It was done. Exactly as he had planned. The blood was everywhere, pooling on the cracked asphalt and soaking into his sneakers. When the sticky warmth reached his toes, he instinctively stepped back, leaving a trail of smeared red behind him.
Seventeen years old. High school junior. And now, a murderer.
The bodies of the boys lay sprawled across the alleyway like discarded dolls. Their jeers and taunts were silenced forever. Except one.
"You… prick…" one of them groaned, blood bubbling at his lips.
His hands tightened around the knife. "Shut up," he growled, his voice trembling with rage and something darker. "Shut the fuck up!"
He lunged, grabbing the boy by his collar and driving the blade into his neck.
Again.
Again.
And again.
Flesh split. Cartilage cracked. Until finally, the head lolled free and thudded to the ground. He staggered back, panting, the knife still clenched in his shaking hand. Then he saw it - the door to the side of the alley. His chest tightened. He knew what was beyond it.
The club has a haze of neon lights, pulsing music, and a chaotic crowd. He slipped inside, scanning the sea of bodies, looking for someone - anyone. The air was thick with the sound of pounding beats, the strobe lights flickering in wild, unpredictable rhythms. Strippers swayed on platforms, their movements hypnotic in the dim, flickering light.
He tucked the knife deeper into his hoodie, careful not to draw attention. The blood, still fresh, had soaked through the fabric, but no one seemed to notice. The chaos around him masked the quiet tension he carried.
He moved through the crowd, weaving between people, his eyes darting for any sign of where the private rooms were. And then, he saw it - a door guarded by a hulking figure. The guard barely glanced at him as he handed over his identification card.
The door creaked open, and he stepped into the corridor beyond. One room after another, he passed, his footsteps silent on the floor, his heart pounding with purpose.
Without thinking, he pushed it open, blood dripping from his hoodie..
The laughter hit him first, faint but unmistakable, infront of his very eyes. A man and woman sat on a couch in what seemed to be a private karaoke room.
"Oh, come on, William," a woman giggled. "I've got to go on a date with Donovan later."
"Do I look like I give a shit?" a man grumbled. "Just make sure you come back with his money."
"I will, I will!" she teased. "Aw, someone's jealous! Fine, fine. Let's get this over with. Take off your clothes and be quick."
"Oh, you don't have to tell me twice, baby."
He froze, his blood-soaked hands trembling at his sides. That voice. He knew it. He knew it.
His girlfriend.
The snitch had been true after all.
A white-hot fury ignited in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he lunged before they could process him.
The girl shrieked, tumbling off the man beneath her. Her neck was dotted with red marks, her hair a mess.
"Donovan?! What the hell are you doing here?"
The man scrambled to cover himself, but his eyes were fixed on Donovan's blood-soaked hoodie, the knife gleaming in his hand, and the hollow, dead look in his eyes.
"B-Babe, it's not what it looks like!" she stammered, panic twisting her features.
Donovan's grip on the knife tightened, the bloodied blade catching the dim light. "Not what it looks like?" he repeated, his voice low and trembling.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" the man barked, anger overtaking fear. His face flushed red, and he clenched his fists. "Did you kill those guys outside? You psycho!"
Donovan didn't give him the chance to say more. With a sharp, fluid motion, he slashed across the man's face, the blade slicing clean through one eye and then the other.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The man's scream tore through the room, raw and animalistic.
Blood sprayed across the walls, soaking the sheets and Alisha's horrified expression. The man stumbled back, clutching at his face as crimson poured through his fingers.
But Donovan wasn't done. He crawled onto the couch, his movements sharp and deliberate, and drove the knife into the man's chest.
When the man finally went limp, Donovan shoved the corpse aside, his breath ragged, his eyes wild.
"N-No!" the girl whimpered, scrambling backward on trembling hands and knees. Tears streamed down her face, her mascara smeared.
But before she could get far, Donovan grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back.
She shrieked, her hands clawing at his grip. "Donovan, please! Please!"
"I loved you!" Donovan roared, his voice breaking. Tears spilled down his bloodstained face, mixing with the streaks of red on his cheeks. "You were the only thing I had in this goddamn world! My only hope in this pit of shit!"
She sobbed, her body shaking. "I love you, Donovan! I swear I do! Please, I was just—"
"Shut up!" he spat, his voice venomous. He wrenched his leg free from her desperate grasp and kicked her hard in the face. Her head snapped back, hitting the wall with a sickening thud.
Dazed, she slumped to the floor, her cries now faint and broken.
Donovan loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her whole. "All I was to you," he whispered, his voice trembling with fury and heartbreak, "was… You know what? Nevermind."
"Donovan… please…" she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
With a final, decisive motion, he raised the knife high and brought it down. The blade sank into her skull with a grotesque crunch. Her body spasmed once, then went still.
Donovan stood there, chest heaving, the knife still lodged in her head.
For a moment, the world was silent, save for his labored breathing. Then he yanked the blade free, the wet sound echoing in the blood-soaked room.
"God…"
Donovan's voice trembled in the stillness. The fury that had consumed him moments ago ebbed away, leaving behind an oppressive clarity.
He sank to the floor beside the bed, his back against the blood-soaked mattress. His hands shook, the knife slipping from his grip and clattering to the ground.
What had he done?
"I have no choice," he whispered.
With trembling fingers, Donovan reached into his hoodie and pulled out a small cylindrical device, its surface reinforced with tightly bound metals.
Through a narrow slit in its casing, an intense, pulsating energy glowed - a shifting blend of light and power.
Cronusiac.
The illegal artifact thrummed softly in his hand, its subtle hum vibrating with the weight of a second chance. He had acquired it from a shady figure in the deepest, most secretive corners of the spaceship's underworld - a place where deals were struck in whispers, and trust was as rare as the artifacts themselves.
It was the work of a genius - one who, paradoxically, possessed no skill attribute of their own. Now, long gone, their name had faded into obscurity.
In the Zepoc Union, the vast, space-faring civilization the young man inhabited, every individual carried a skill attribute, a divine gift granted by the Entretenir of Knowledge, a cosmic being revered as a god.
The Entretenir''s blessing was the cornerstone of their society, a mark of power and distinction. Yet this mysterious inventor had created something that transcended it all - an artifact that challenged the very essence of their universe.
And broke the flow of time because of universal misuse.
Getting his hands on it hadn't been easy. The mechanism was highly illegal, smuggled through black-market channels, and its very existence was a risk because he might get hunted by the Anti-Regressor. But the promise it held, the power it offered, made every danger worth it.
A device capable of rewinding time itself, depending on the potency of the energy within. This one was a 3-year Cronusiac. Enough to take him back to junior high school.
He had sworn he'd never use it. The consequences of being caught with such a forbidden object were severe.
But consequences didn't matter anymore. His life here was already over.
His thumb hovered over the release mechanism. "I'll make it right this time," he muttered, whether to himself or the empty room, he didn't know. "And get my revenge."
He pressed down.
The opener clicked, and suddenly, the room exploded with light. A brilliant glow erupted from the device, its intensity so overwhelming that Donovan had to shield his eyes.
The Cronusiac hummed louder, its energy spilling out like a flood. Blue and yellow particles swirled around him, lifting his body off the ground.
He felt weightless, like his very essence was being unraveled.
The world began to blur, shapes and colors dissolving into a spinning void. His thoughts fragmented, scattering into the ether. For a moment, it felt like he was losing himself entirely.
Then, everything went black.
Until, in an instant, it all snapped back into focus. He found himself sitting in a classroom, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. He turned to the side. A window. And there, in the reflection, was a much younger version of himself. Foolish, naive. His breath caught in his throat.
He didn't hesitate. Days later, he left the school, moved far away. But disbelief lingered. He had been transported back in time, to a point he could never have imagined.
The next day, he stood before a new high school, the doors wide open to a life he thought was lost forever.
"Please welcome the new transferee," the teacher announced.
"It's the middle of the semester, though..." a student murmured under their breath.
It was already lunchtime when a girl approached him, breaking the rhythm of his thoughts.
"Hey, I'm the class representative!" She flashed a bright smile, and Donovan's heart skipped a beat. Oh god, she was stunning. He couldn't believe someone as beautiful as her was actually talking to him.
She had an elegant, tall frame that seemed to command the space around her. His eyes couldn't help but linger for a moment, and then he snapped himself out of it, shaking his head. Focus.
"I was tasked by the teacher to show you around," she continued.
"Y-Yeah!" He stammered, trying to keep his composure.
They walked through the bustling hallways, past students chatting and laughing, but Donovan's mind was on her. He couldn't stop admiring her from behind until his gaze lingered a little too long on her legs.
"You okay there?" she asked, glancing back, her voice calm and casual before turning her attention ahead again.
"I'm good!" he blurted out, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
It was his first day in this new school, and already he was falling for her. He almost wished he could rewind time, over and over, just to be near her.
They toured various parts of the school, but soon, the tour ended. Donovan let out a quiet sigh, disappointed. He wanted more time with her. They stopped at the back of the school, near the courtyard. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.
"U-Um, what's your name?" he asked, his voice betraying his nervousness.
"Oh? Me?" She smiled again, the warmth in her expression making Donovan's heart race. "I'm Marulei. I hope I did well."
"Y-Yeah!" Donovan nodded enthusiastically, though his attention was clearly elsewhere. He had been too busy stealing glances to focus on anything she said. I have to win her over. I have to try. "Are you... single?"
"Why do you ask?" She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes.
"N-Nothing!" Donovan stammered, mortified. He quickly turned his gaze away, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.
Somehow, the girl smiled, her expression softening as she stepped closer, their faces nearly touching. Donovan's heart raced. No way... Am I actually getting a girl... this pretty?! His mind raced with a thousand thoughts and things he could do with her, all the possibilities flashing in an instant.
"You're handsome..." she murmured, her voice low and warm. "Donovan, right?"
"Yeah!" He nodded eagerly, barely able to contain his excitement.
"Why did you suddenly transfer?" she asked, her eyes locking onto his with a curious intensity.
Donovan hesitated, unsure how to answer. His fingers fidgeted as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well... It just felt suffocating at my old school."
The truth was darker than that. He hadn't just transferred. He had wanted to pursue his revenge.
"Is that so?" she replied, her voice taking on an almost knowing tone.
Then, as if something shifted in her gaze, she took a small step back. "Say..." she said, her smile twisting just slightly, "Did you really think you could hide from me?"
"Wha—"
Stab!
The cold steel of a blade plunged into his skull. Donovan's eyes widened in shock, the world going blurry.
The girl pulled the dagger free, and his vision dulled to nothing as he collapsed, blood pooling around him.
She wiped the blood from the blade with a flick of her wrist, her expression impassive.
"Target Killed: Donovan Salvator. Sins: Murder Spree. Killed his family. His certain classmates... And used the cronusiac." she muttered, a system notification flashing before her eyes.
[Mission Successful]