Ares retreated to his room, trying to stay calm despite the turmoil boiling inside him. His mind was racing, thoughts tangled between anger, pain, and a thirst for justice that he knew could never be satisfied. He carefully made the bed, arranging pillows and sheets to create a false body, then hid in the darkest corner of the room. The dim light of the lantern flickered like a silent presence, but his red, determined eyes were fixed on the door.
Each second seemed to stretch out, as if time itself had slowed down. The constant sound of rain against the windows filled the air, but deep within that eerie calm, he could hear the pounding of his own heartbeat. He focused on his breathing, but his hands trembled slightly. An image of his mother crossed his mind, her fragile figure dissolving into the darkness. "I can't fail," he thought, gripping the knife in his fingers, veins tight. "Not today."
The sound of a key turning in the lock finally broke the silence, a sharp click that echoed like thunder. Ares held his breath, the blood pulsing in his temples. Every movement of the butler was amplified by the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
The door creaked open slowly, and a figure entered: the butler. A long, sharp knife was clutched in both hands, held like the only thing keeping him from falling apart. The flickering light of the lantern illuminated his face, revealing a cold, distant expression. But in Ares's eyes, that face seemed marked by fear. The butler muttered to himself without looking up, "A scared kid afraid of a storm… he won't even realize what's happening."
With careful steps, he approached the bed. Each movement was deliberate, the shining knife gleaming in the shadows. When he reached the bed, he leaned down slightly, as if to pierce the heart of the boy he imagined lying there.
"One quick strike," he whispered, raising the blade.
At that moment, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the room as if the world itself were witnessing what was about to happen. The butler brought the knife down hard, striking the center of the bed.
PLUFF!
"Oh, damn!" His scream was broken. He stared at the bed, his face filled with disbelief. There was no one beneath the covers, only a pierced pillow.
Too late, he realized his mistake. A heavy object struck him on the back of the head with a dull thud. The butler collapsed, the knife slipping from his hand, and blood began to flow down his neck. "Who's there?!" he shouted, trying to rise, but the pain in his head made him stumble, forcing him to fall against the wardrobe. He steadied himself with one hand and looked up.
That was when he saw them.
Two red eyes, glowing, staring at him from the darkness. They weren't just eyes, but eyes that seemed to come from another world, a world of fury and despair. Their light burned, but there was no mercy in that face. Not anymore.
"You… what are you?" the butler stammered, his face twisted in terror. His hands trembled as he tried to reach for the knife, but when he looked down, he saw it: in Ares's hands.
"Boy… wait. Listen to me!" the butler tried to say, raising his hands in surrender, but his voice betrayed his panic. "I… I'm here to help you! I thought there was a problem. That's why I took the knife."
Ares didn't answer. With slow, methodical movements, he took a step forward, then another. The butler backed away, slipping on the bloodied floor, but Ares didn't even look at him. His face was impassive, the knife gripped firmly. The distance between them shortened.
"Don't lie," Ares said in a voice so low and cold it sent chills down the butler's spine. Every word was a sentence. "Why are you here?"
The butler trembled visibly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, spare me! I'm not the one to blame! It was Mr. Asteris and his wife. They're the ones who forced your mother to take her life!"
Ares stopped, the knife gleaming in the dim lantern light. The butler, still hoping for an escape, gasped, "Please, let me explain! The lady… she enjoys seeing her husband humiliate other women. It makes her feel superior. And Mr. Asteris… he does whatever he wants. This time, they chose your mother as their target. But she… she was too proud. She didn't want to give in. That's why… she took her life. I… I had nothing to do with it! I was just following orders!"
Ares tightened his grip on the knife, but didn't respond. Only the sound of the rain and the butler's labored breathing filled the room. His face was unreadable, but something deep inside was stirring.
"You're just a coward," Ares finally said, his voice so cold it seemed to come from another being. "You obeyed. And now you want to obey again."
"No!" the butler screamed, flailing desperately. "I didn't want to do it! They forced me! Please, spare me. I promise I'll disappear. I won't say a word. No one will ever know about you."
Ares lowered the knife slightly. The butler thought for a moment that the boy might let him go. But that moment of hope vanished in an instant.
The knife drove into his left eye with brutal force.
"AAAHHHHH!" The butler screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the pain gripping him. He writhed, and when Ares pulled the blade out, he thrust it into the other eye, blind to hope. The butler, now unable to see, screamed and thrashed on the floor. His cries were just drops in an ocean of agony.
"Please… kill me quickly," he whispered, his voice broken by suffering.
Ares didn't reply. With brutal precision, he cut off his ears, then his tongue, and finally, one by one, his fingers. Each strike was calculated, merciless, every movement an indelible message.
When the butler, now reduced to a shell of suffering flesh, stopped moving, Ares drove the knife into his heart, ending his life. The body lay still, sprawled on the blood-soaked floor.
Ares stood up, wiped the knife clean on the man's apron, and approached the door. Before leaving, he cast one last glance at the lifeless body.
"My revenge has just begun," he murmured to himself, eyes fixed on the emptiness.
Then he opened the door and stepped into the night, heading toward the Asteris villa.