The rain pounded the streets, washing away the blood but never the past.
Victor stood over the lifeless body of his father, his fists still trembling, his breath sharp and unsteady. Years of torment, of silent screams and unseen bruises—all ended in one night. Yet, as he looked down at the man who had ruled his life with terror, he felt… nothing.
No regret.
No sorrow.
Just freedom.
And in that emptiness, for the first time in his life—he smiled.
A Childhood Forged in Fear
Victor never had a childhood—only survival.
His father, an alcoholic with a temper sharper than broken glass, ruled their home like a tyrant. His voice was thunder, his fists were storms.
Every night was a battlefield.
A bottle shattering against the wall.
A belt snapping against his skin.
His mother's sobs choking in the dark.
She was his only light, the one thing keeping him from drowning. But light doesn't last forever.
The Night His World Turned to Ash
Victor was sixteen the night everything changed.
He had stayed late at school, dreading the walk home, hoping to avoid whatever drunken rage his father had in store. But when he stepped inside, the silence felt… unnatural.
His mother always waited for him. Always.
But tonight, she lay motionless on the floor, her hands clutching her stomach, blood pooling beneath her.
His breath caught. His heart stopped.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
"Mom?"
Cold. Too cold.
Then—a slow, slurred chuckle from the shadows.
Victor turned. His father sat in his usual chair, a bottle in hand, eyes half-lidded, his lips curled into something almost amused.
"She wouldn't shut up," his father muttered, tilting the bottle. "So I shut her up."
Victor didn't hear the bottle drop. He didn't feel his own body move.
Something inside him snapped.
The Night the Boy Died
His first punch shattered his father's nose.
A crack of bone. A gasp of pain.
But Victor didn't stop.
A fist to the ribs.
A strike to the jaw.
A knee to the stomach.
His father stumbled, choking on his own blood. For the first time in his life, Victor wasn't the one begging.
For a moment, he hovered over the broken man. His fists still clenched. His breath ragged.
This wasn't enough.
His eyes flickered to the shattered bottle on the floor.
The blade gleamed under the dim light.
His father groaned, barely conscious. But Victor saw no man—only a demon that had haunted his life for sixteen years.
The world blurred. The blood, the rain, the rage.
By the time it was over, Victor wasn't sure how many times he had plunged the glass into his father's chest.
Five? Ten? Twenty?
He didn't care.
When he stepped back, his hands were warm, drenched in red. His father's body lay still. Maybe unconscious. Maybe dead.
It didn't matter. He was free.
And as the rain poured down, washing the blood from his fingers, Victor smiled.
For the first time, the storm had passed.
A World Without Chains
The streets were merciless, but Victor had nothing left to lose.
He wandered for hours—cold, soaked, lost. The world felt too big, too empty.
Then, a sound.
A scream. A struggle. A girl crying for help.
Victor turned a corner. Two men. A dark alley. A nightmare unfolding.
Something in his chest tightened. He had seen this before. He had lived this before.
He moved before he could think.
A brick to the skull.
A knee to the ribs.
A storm of fists.
By the time it was over, the men lay unconscious, their bodies crumpled against the walls.
Victor stood over them, his fists trembling. His breath sharp.
The girl pressed herself against the alley wall, her eyes wide with terror.
For a second, their eyes met.
She didn't thank him.
She didn't cry.
She just ran.
And in that moment, Victor understood.
It didn't matter who he hurt. It didn't matter who he saved.
The world would always see him as a monster.
Then—a voice from the shadows.
"You've got fire, kid."
Victor turned. A man leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand, watching him with unreadable eyes.
This wasn't just anyone. This was someone powerful. Someone dangerous.
"Ever thought about making real money with those fists?"
Victor exhaled, wiping blood from his knuckles.
He didn't hesitate. Not anymore.
For the first time in a long time, he smiled.
"Tell me where to start."
[End of Chapter]
Next Chapter Teaser:
Victor enters the underworld. His first crime. His first kill. The moment he realizes—there's no turning back.