Markus could feel cold sweat trickling down his face as he stood frozen, staring at the figure that had somehow materialized in his room.
The man wasn't truly a demon, yet everything about him exuded an aura of something otherworldly, something malevolent. His medium-length, straight silver hair fell loosely around his face, a few strands partially obscuring his eyes. But those eyes—icy blue and piercing—cut through the veil, locking onto Markus with an intensity that made him feel utterly exposed.
Covering the lower half of the man's face was a mask crafted from silver and obsidian, grotesque in its design. It depicted a snarling mouth with four jagged, protruding teeth, their serrated edges catching the dim light. The mask resembled half of an Oni visage, amplifying the chilling presence he exuded.
His long, blood-red leather jacket billowed slightly as he shifted, its deep hue so vivid that Markus couldn't tell if it had always been that color or if countless stains of blood had darkened it over time.
Then there were the weapons. Two unnaturally long pistols rested in holsters on either side of his waist, their sleek, ominous designs unlike any firearm Markus had ever seen. A katana, its polished sheath reflecting the faint light, was strapped to the man's back, its hilt adorned with intricate carvings that hinted at its deadly purpose.
The combination of his appearance and aura left no doubt in Markus's mind: this was no ordinary man.
"What… what do you want from me?" Markus managed to stammer, his voice barely above a whisper.
The figure tilted his head slightly, as if studying Markus, but remained silent. The oppressive atmosphere thickened, making Markus feel like the walls were closing in.
"C'mon, don't be like that now. I'm Gin. I'm sure you've heard of me, in passing at the very least…" the silver-haired man said casually, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone beneath its laid-back cadence. "You know, one of the Big Man's lieutenants… I'm the guy who's supposed to give you the 'thing'."
Just like that, the suffocating aura around Gin seemed to dissipate, replaced by a casual demeanor that felt almost disarming. Almost.
Markus's heart pounded in his chest as he processed the revelation. Gin.That Gin. The one they called 'The Demon of the Underworld.'
The stories about Gin were infamous. He was an enforcer who thrived in the shadows, someone whose legend was whispered in fear even among the awakened, and the man who had supposedly slain countless awakened individuals despite being a regular human himself.
'No… no way that's possible,' Markus tried to assure himself, but the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Even if the rumors were exaggerated, the fact that Gin's name carried such weight meant he was no joke.
What unsettled Markus even more was Gin's demeanor. He didn't just exude confidence; he acted like someone who knew no one could touch him. His carefree exterior wasn't an act—he genuinely didn't bother hiding his identity. The way Gin leaned slightly on the wall, his hands resting lazily near the pistols on his hips, conveyed nothing but ease.
And yet, it terrified Markus even more. This was a man who didn't care whether others knew who he was because he knew they wouldn't dare cross him.
Markus swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the weapons at Gin's side. He didn't want to risk saying anything that might irk him. Whatever this meeting was about, it had better not go sideways.
Gin rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Markus's terror. "Fuckin ell. I'm not gonna eat ya, you know? I'm not an actual demon." He stepped closer, his movements relaxed yet deliberate, and handed Markus a shard of a strange crystal.
The shard was mesmerizing—it seemed to devour the light around it, its true shape impossible to discern.
Markus's eyes widened, his fear evaporating and giving way to an almost manic excitement. He recognized it immediately: Darkium. One of the rarest materials on the planet. Its scarcity wasn't just due to its value, but because the government kept a tight grip on anyone who even dared to possess it.
With trembling hands, Markus turned to the machine he had spent years building. He inserted the shard, and the machine roared to life. It emitted an eerie, otherworldly glow that bathed the room in shifting hues of shadow and light.
A tear slipped down Markus's cheek. This was it—his life's work, finally complete. Now all that remained was to test it.
"Sick setup you've got there." Gin's voice snapped Markus out of his trance. He turned slightly, meeting the piercing blue eyes of the demon.
"Don't forget your end of the deal," Gin reminded him, his tone light but firm. "The Big Man said to take out Khybernus, and he'll set you up for life. Sweet deal, right? Way better than mine…" The last part came out as a muttered grumble.
The reminder hit Markus like a cold slap of reality. His chest tightened as the weight of his mission sank in. If he wanted to save millions of lives, including his family, he'd have to kill one person.
But not just anyone… "the one I hate the most." Markus muttered darkly, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Despite the feeling of bitterness, a small, twisted smile tugged at his lips.
Gin gave him a side glance, equal parts amused and concerned. 'How does the Big Man keep finding these wackos? …Wait, am I a wacko?'
"Whatever. I'm out." Gin waved lazily over his shoulder, walking out the door like a perfectly ordinary person. "Peace."
Markus's perception of the infamous Demon of the Underworld cracked even further.
He shook his head, chuckling softly at the absurdity of it all. But soon, his laughter turned hollow. His reflection in the machine's polished surface seemed to mock him, showing a man who had crossed a line he could never return from.
"A killer…" he whispered, the weight of the word heavy in the air. "I'm going to become a killer…"
The laughter faded, replaced by silent sobs. He clutched the edges of the machine, trembling as his thoughts spiraled. Could he go through with it? Could he really take someone's life?
He turned back to the reflection, meeting his own eyes. All he saw was a broken man—a helpless shell with no future.
Suddenly, his expression hardened. He gritted his teeth, resolve overtaking hesitation.
"One way to find out," he muttered.
Strapping the device to his back, Markus squared his shoulders and stepped out of the room.
***
Getting back home was not troublesome in the slightest. No, no, the real trouble began once they stepped through the door. Their father, unexpectedly home from work after taking leave to search for them, was already there, pacing anxiously. When they all reunited at home, there was an emotional embrace—tight, relieved hugs that spoke of their mutual gratitude that everyone was safe.
However...
Nicholas had completely forgotten to warn Evan to keep quiet about everything that had transpired. So, naturally, his younger brother, in his earnest enthusiasm, blurted out every single detail of the day.
From the moment Nicholas brought him to the store for shelter, to standing up for the abandoned man, helping restore the generator, and even confronting a villain—it all came spilling out in a flood of admiration.
Nicholas stood frozen, half in disbelief and half horrified. The first time Evan was genuinely praising him, and it had to be now—when he desperately wanted him to stay silent.
Their father, meanwhile, listened attentively, his expression unreadable. Once Evan finished his heartfelt account, their father rose from his seat and, without a word, walked into the nearest bedroom—his own.
"Nicholas," he called, his tone even.
With a deep sigh of resignation, Nicholas followed. He closed the door behind him, his shoulders tense as he prepared for the worst.
"Is it true?" his father asked, arms crossed but his face neutral.
Nicholas shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "More or less." He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the scolding he was sure would come. Seconds passed, and when nothing happened, he cracked one eye open.
His father was smiling at him.
"You did good."
Nicholas blinked in surprise, his guard slipping. He couldn't help but grin. "And here I thought I was about to be punished."
Before he could react, his father's hand came down in a swift karate chop to the top of his head.
"OW! Ow, ow!" Nicholas yelped, rubbing his head as he glared at his father in confusion.
Their father pulled him into a sudden hug. "Punishment comes after praise," he said, his voice warm yet tinged with emotion.
Nicholas gave him a bewildered look. "You know, you're giving me a lot of mixed signals here."
His father chuckled softly but didn't let go. "I know. But you worry me, son. After... after the incident last year, and with what happened to your sister… I'm just terrified to let you out of my sight. You're reckless, and you always seem to find trouble."
Nicholas opened his mouth to defend himself but stopped. As much as he hated to admit it, the events of the day had been nothing short of chaotic, and his father's concerns weren't entirely unfounded.
He sighed, relaxing slightly in his father's grip. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen," Nicholas admitted.
"I know," his father said quietly, pulling back to look him in the eye. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Please."
Nicholas nodded reluctantly. "I'll try."
"That's all I ask." His father smiled, ruffling his hair before stepping back. "Now go. I think your brother still has some energy to burn, and you're the only one he'll bother for hours on end."
Nicholas groaned but managed a small smile. "You're really just using me as a shield, aren't you?"
"Absolutely."
As Nicholas left the room, he saw Evan waiting outside, bouncing on his heels. The kid's boundless energy was exhausting, but for now, Nicholas was just grateful they were all safe.
Still, as he glanced out the window at the melting snow, a gnawing unease lingered in his chest. The day might have been over, but something told him this wasn't the end. Not by a long shot.
Later that night, Nicholas found himself seated at his desk, the glow of his computer screen casting sharp shadows in the dim room. Determined to make sense of the day's events, he began digging for answers.
The first thing he uncovered left him both relieved and uneasy. The man he and Luke had apprehended earlier wasn't a villain at all—just a homeless thug. However, this raised more questions than it answered. Despite being unawakened, the man had demonstrated a level of strength unusual for someone of his build. Nicholas recalled the black veins he'd briefly glimpsed on the man's skin. It sent a shiver down his spine. Scouring the internet for information about similar phenomena yielded nothing, only deepening the mystery.
Shifting his focus, Nicholas turned his attention to the sudden blizzard. News reports confirmed it wasn't the work of an awakened villain but rather a strange man wielding an unknown device. Several blurry photos captured a figure standing on a rooftop, holding what appeared to be the device responsible.
"If only there was a clearer shot…" Nicholas muttered, frustration bubbling. He scoured every app and forum he could think of, determined to find more. Eventually, his persistence paid off.
One photo, slightly clearer than the rest, showed a man with dark skin and brown hair. The image wasn't detailed enough to make out the color of his eyes, but the man's build and clothing stood out to Nicholas immediately.
"No way… It can't be."
His stomach churned as the realization hit him. The man in the photo looked almost identical to Markus—the same Markus that saved him hours ago. His clothing even matched.
Nicholas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "How... troubling," he murmured.
Despite his reluctance to believe it, the evidence was stacking up. Could Markus have been behind the blizzard? And if so, why?
Digging deeper, Nicholas uncovered an article about Benjamin Khybernus, the head of KhyberCorp, discussing a prototype device capable of manipulating the weather. However, he had downplayed expectations, calling the project a "long-term goal", Nicholas couldn't ignore the timing.
Feeling a spark of hope, he accessed the public KhyberCorp database. The database was filled with general information about the company's projects and employees. Luckily, his father, an employee at KhyberCorp, had left his login credentials saved on their home computer. With a twinge of guilt, Nicholas used his father's account to skim through the files.
After a few minutes of searching, he found what he was looking for: Markus Tempus.
But just as he was about to click on the file, it vanished. The name and all associated information disappeared from the database as if it had never been there in the first place.
"What the…?" Nicholas stared at the screen, baffled. "Was he fired? Or something worse?"
A creeping suspicion gnawed at him, though he couldn't pinpoint why.
Then another thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Why am I even doing this?" he muttered to himself. "This doesn't concern me. It's none of my business."
Yet, as much as he tried to convince himself, the burning curiosity inside refused to fade. There was something about the events of the day—Markus, the blizzard, the strange device—that felt connected to something far larger than he could see.
And now, Nicholas realized, he was already too deep to walk away.
Steeling himself, he returned to his search, determined to uncover the truth, no matter how troubling it might be.
After another hour of searching, Nicholas realized he wouldn't uncover anything more online. The trail had gone cold, and if he wanted answers, he'd have to tie up loose ends himself. Somehow…
The first step? Visiting KhyberCorp Tower. If his hunch was correct, Markus might attempt to go after his former boss.
"But... I can't let anyone recognize me... Do I even have a mask?" Nicholas muttered, pacing around his room.
After a futile search through his belongings, he confirmed the obvious: there wasn't a single mask to be found. "Why would I even have one?" he groaned, exasperated.
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, imagining the kind of mask he wanted—a simple, sleek design that could cover his entire face. The thought was barely complete when he felt something smooth and solid in his hand.
Startled, Nicholas opened his eyes to find himself holding a pitch-black mask. Its surface was impossibly dark, with two hollow eye sockets that seemed to devour light.
He yelped, dropping it to the floor. The mask landed with a heavy thud, cracking the wood beneath it.
"...It's heavy, huh?" he said, staring at the object in disbelief. His awkward smile faded as realization dawned on him. "Did I… make this?"
Tentatively, he bent down and picked up the mask. Despite its earlier impact, it felt unexpectedly light in his hands, as if it were made just for him.
Nicholas placed it over his face. The moment it settled, his vision shifted. The world seemed cloaked in shadow, yet somehow clearer. It wasn't perfect night vision, but he could make out the silhouettes of objects in the darkness with surprising clarity.
"That's... kinda cool," he admitted, his voice tinged with awe.
This power—this darkness—was proving to be far more versatile than he had imagined. So far, it had allowed him to create flames, and now, physical objects with unique properties.
"Am I a dark attribute awakened?" he wondered aloud. Awakened with the dark attribute typically possessed stealth-oriented abilities, making them adept at avoiding combat rather than engaging in it. Yet his abilities seemed different—more flexible.
Dismissing the mask, Nicholas leaned back, deep in thought. "I wonder what else I could make—ow!" he hissed, slapping himself on the forehead.
Just hours ago, he'd promised himself he wouldn't use this ability anymore. He didn't want to attract the attention of the authorities or put himself in danger. He craved a normal life, free of chaos and risk.
Yet, despite his better judgment, he couldn't shake the urge to explore this power further. It called to him, teasing at the edges of his mind.
The truth was, Nicholas had no hobbies, no special talents, no lofty goals. He wasn't the best at anything, nor was he the worst. He lived his life drifting from one day to the next without purpose.
But now… now, he wondered if this path, dangerous as it might be, could give him something more—a reason to exist.
Nicholas turned to the mirror, his reflection illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
He summoned the mask again, letting it settle over his face as he studied his reflection.
"What's the worst that can happen?" he murmured, his tone strangely upbeat.