The elevator doors opened with a faint sound.
A man stepped out, his body half-burned and trembling. His right arm hung uselessly; two bullet holes marked his shoulder and elbow. His left sleeve was torn where his hand had once been — only bandages and dried blood remained. His breathing was uneven, and every step left faint drops of blood on the floor.
Across his left shoulder, he carried a young girl. Her head hung loosely; her clothes were torn but her body showed no fatal wounds. She was unconscious, her breathing faint but steady.
The corridor lights flickered above them. Somewhere far below, sirens screamed and gunfire echoed through the valley. The entire district had collapsed into chaos, but Alex Blackwood ignored all of it. His focus remained fixed on one door — Apartment 404.
He stopped in front of it and pressed the bell with his remaining hand. For a moment, there was silence. Then light spilled out from inside as the door opened slightly.
A woman stood in the doorway, her expression freezing in shock.
"…Alex?"
Her voice trembled. Her eyes darted from his burned face to the unconscious girl on his shoulder.
"Camillia," he said quietly. His voice was rough and low. "It's been a long time."
She didn't speak. Her hands shook slightly, gripping the edge of the door.
Alex looked down at the girl he was carrying. His expression didn't change, but his eyes softened for a brief moment.
"I came to make a request," he said. "Take care of her. Tell her to live freely. Tell her not to chase revenge."
Camillia's lips parted but no words came out.
Alex crouched slightly and lowered the girl onto the floor inside the apartment. He brushed her hair from her face and then looked back at Camillia.
"She's safe now," he said. "That's all that matters."
Before she could respond, Alex turned around. His footsteps were uneven, but he kept walking until he disappeared inside the elevator. The doors closed, leaving Camillia frozen in silence.
Outside, the city was dying.
Flames rose in the distance, and the streets were littered with debris. Military sirens echoed through the night as gunfire rattled across the hills. The air smelled of smoke and oil.
Alex stepped out into the open. His body was at its limit, but his eyes were steady.
He walked along the cracked road, heading toward the base of the hill. A line of military vehicles blocked the street ahead. Soldiers stood behind the barricade with rifles raised.
"Stop right there!" one of them shouted.
Alex stopped. He raised his left arm slowly and unzipped his jacket. Beneath it was a compact explosive vest — small but powerful, the kind designed for structural demolition.
The soldiers hesitated. A few of them took a step back, shouting warnings over their radios.
Alex took a phone from his pocket. The screen showed a red button.
He looked at them one last time and pressed it.
Several detonations went off across the region. Deep underground, explosives planted in the offshore energy facility triggered a chain reaction. The facility, located fifty kilometers from downtown, had a containment failure. The explosion displaced millions of tons of seawater, generating a massive wave that began to move toward the coastline.
The soldiers' radios exploded with static. "—detonation offshore! Tsunami warning—!"
They turned back toward Alex.
He exhaled slowly. "It's done."
They opened fire. The impact hit his chest and stomach. The vest detonated instantly. The explosion tore through the barricade and nearby vehicles. The shockwave triggered a small landslide that swept the soldiers and debris down the hillside.
When the light faded, nothing remained of Alex Blackwood.
He had known his fate from the start. Every step after leaving the apartment had been forced by willpower alone. His body was already failing; his pulse had slowed. But he moved until the last second.
He had no illusions about what he'd done. The wave would reach the coastal city within an hour, and millions would die. He didn't care. The same world that had taken everything from him would now be buried with him.
He didn't see himself as righteous or evil. He simply acted according to the life he'd lived — a man born into power, surrounded by betrayal, and used until nothing human was left. Saving his sister was the only thing he could still call good.
Alex Blackwood had not always been this way.
He had been born into the wealthiest family in the capital — the Blackwoods, a name that carried authority across the continent. He had everything: status, money, and a future others would kill for.
He was reborn into that life thirteen years ago, remembering his past existence in another world. At first, he thought fate had given him a second chance — to live freely, to protect his family, to build something better.
He loved them all, even those not of his blood — his younger half-sister, his adopted sister, his parents. But as the years passed, he learned what kind of world he was living in. The capital was a nest of power and control, where corporations owned governments and families traded lives like currency.
To survive, Alex adapted.
He became three things:
A killer who worked unseen.
A leader who commanded without weakness.
A thinker who created systems and technologies that reshaped industries.
By thirteen, he had already become a symbol of success — but behind every step forward, another body had fallen.
He knew this truth, yet he didn't stop. Power was the only shield that lasted.
But now, lying in the darkness after death, he could see how it all ended.
He had reached the top, but someone stronger appeared — someone ordinary, someone he had ignored.
A man who used to work as a sales manager, underpaid and overlooked. Alex had dismissed him as irrelevant, yet that man rose to power, gaining influence, respect, and control over the nation. The world had chosen him as its hero, and Alex became the villain of his story.
Alex laughed weakly in the void.
"So this is how villains end," he said. "No grand plan. Just a bullet and silence."
He thought of the man who had defeated him and smiled bitterly.
"I wasn't careful enough. I should have seen it coming."
The darkness lasted for what felt like years. Thought faded. Pain vanished. Only emptiness remained.
Then came the light.
It wasn't sudden — it built up slowly, filling the void with warmth. Alex opened his eyes.
He was lying on a bed.
Sunlight filtered through the window, reflecting on the edge of a desk filled with notes and open books.
He sat up slowly. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror on the wall — a young boy, fourteen years old, thin but alive. His long black hair fell across his shoulders. His skin was unscarred.
He took a long breath and looked around. He knew this room. It was his dormitory from when he studied abroad.
"…So I'm back."
He clenched his hand — both hands. His right arm moved easily. His chest was intact. No wounds, no blood, no pain.
He stood up and looked at himself again.
"Now there's no time to waste," he muttered. "This time, I'll win. I'll become stronger, faster."
He turned toward the window, watching the city outside. Cars moved along clean roads. The world was peaceful — for now.
"The first step is the serum," he said. "If I finish it first, everything changes."
He looked down at his hand, steady and alive.
"This time, I won't hesitate. Victory or death. Nothing in between."
He opened the drawer beside the desk. Inside was a notebook labeled Evolution Research Log. His handwriting filled the first few pages with half-finished calculations and chemical equations.
He smiled faintly. "Good. Everything starts here."
He pulled the chair close, flipped to a blank page, and began writing.
"Let the game begin."