Chapter 26
"The River Claims Him"
The storm raged on, its fury unrelenting. The bridge swayed under the howling wind, the water below thrashing like a beast denied its prey. Sung Ho clung to the slick railing, his breaths ragged, his eyes wide with terror.
Maverick stood behind him, unmoving, a dark silhouette against the flashes of lightning. His presence pressed down on the world like an invisible weight, his silence louder than the storm.
"Don't do this!" Sung Ho screamed, voice breaking as he tightened his grip on the railing. His fingers slipped on the wet steel, but he held on with desperate strength. "I can keep your secret! I swear—I'll never tell anyone!"
Maverick's eyes glimmered coldly. "It isn't about secrets. It's about inevitability."
Then, with a single, casual motion, he placed his hand on Sung Ho's shoulder and shoved.
The boy's scream tore through the storm as his body pitched forward. His hands flailed wildly, grasping at air, until he struck the railing. For one fleeting second, it seemed he might pull himself back—his nails scraping against the slick steel, muscles straining with every ounce of terror-driven strength.
But fate was merciless.
The railing was too wet. His arms too weak. His scream too hollow.
Sung Ho tumbled over the edge.
The river swallowed him whole.
The world became chaos. The freezing water slammed into his body, stealing the breath from his lungs. He kicked frantically, limbs thrashing as he broke the surface for a single gasp of air. Lightning flashed above, illuminating the bridge, the storm, and the figure of "Xin Min" staring down at him.
"Help!" Sung Ho choked, his voice ragged, water filling his throat. "Please! Don't let me die!"
The current seized him, dragging him under. His arms flailed, fingers clawing for something—anything. The river tore at him, spun him, slammed him against hidden rocks. His chest burned, his lungs screamed, his heart thundered.
But he refused to give up. Not yet. Not like this.
He broke the surface again, coughing violently, his body trembling with cold and terror. "I don't want to die!" he sobbed, his voice drowned by the storm. "Please! Please—!"
The river roared louder. A wave crashed over him, slamming him back beneath the surface. His eyes stung, the world turning into a blur of darkness and bubbles. He kicked, he clawed, he screamed—but no sound came. His lungs convulsed, begging for air.
Above, Maverick watched. His expression was calm, detached, almost analytical.
"Pathetic," he murmured.
Sung Ho fought harder. Images of his life flashed in his mind—his mother's smile, the schoolyard, the rooftop where it had all begun. He thought of Xin Min's mocking laughter, of the night he had finally snapped and brought the rock down on that sneering face. For one moment, he had felt free.
And now, he was the one drowning.
His chest convulsed violently. The last of his air burst from his lips in a cloud of bubbles. He gasped—instinct taking over—and the river flooded in. Cold, merciless water filled his lungs. His body jerked, spasmed, then weakened. His vision blurred.
The storm grew distant. The pain dulled. The world went dark.
And Sung Ho sank.
The river closed over him, dragging him deeper, deeper, until his struggling form vanished into the black depths.
On the bridge, Maverick straightened, the storm whipping his soaked hair across his face. Voldrack and Zaratul stood a short distance away, their eyes fixed on him.
Zaratul smirked, his humanoid form leaning against the railing. "And so the liability is erased. Neat, clean, just as you said."
Voldrack, however, was quieter. His eyes narrowed, studying the boy who wore Xin Min's skin. Something had shifted. The air itself seemed heavier, sharper, as though the storm bent to him.
Maverick's lips parted. His voice was steady, colder than ever before.
"Maverick is dead."
Both demons turned toward him.
"I was Maverick once," he continued, his eyes burning with pale, unnatural light. "A boy betrayed by family, slaughtered by love, cast into the pit. But Maverick was weak. Human." He lifted his hand, watching the rain run down his skin. "Tonight, that weakness drowns with Sung Ho."
Lightning split the sky, illuminating his face.
"I am Ouroboros," he declared, his voice resonating with a power that seemed to vibrate through the storm itself. "The serpent of fate. The chain that binds beginning and end. The world will not bend me. I will bend the world."
The storm howled louder, as if answering him.
Voldrack bowed his head slightly, respect glimmering in his eyes. Even he could feel it now—the true awakening of something ancient, something terrible.
Zaratul grinned, sharp and feral. "Finally."
The river below raged on, swallowing Sung Ho's final breath into its depths. His body would wash up days later, swollen and lifeless, another sad story written off as suicide.
But the truth—the truth was that his death was not his own. It was claimed, orchestrated, sealed by the will of Ouroboros.
And the world had no idea what had just risen in its midst.