Kaiden never imagined the world would end in fluorescent lights and a cold office chair.
Not the kind of ending you'd expect for someone like him—sharp-suited, silver-tongued, smarter than everyone else in the damn room. At least, that's what he told himself every morning in the mirror while fixing a tie he never liked, walking into a job he never respected.
"I'm letting you go, Kaiden."
His manager's voice still echoed—dull, trembling, wrapped in fake concern. A man with a head shaped like a potato and skin stretched too tight over guiltless features. Kaiden didn't even hear the rest—not the apology, not the HR rep trying to look sympathetic. Just those words.
Letting him go.
As if he were a broken vending machine.
Kaiden walked out without a word. No shouting. No grand exit. Just silence—the kind that curdles in your chest until it calcifies into something sharp.
He drank. Cheap stuff. Picked from a convenience store across the street. First bottle burned his throat. Second dulled it. The third? That one made everything fuzzy.
Somehow, his legs carried him to the train station. Late night. Too bright. Fluorescent light buzzing above his head. Vending machines. Plastic seats bolted to the floor. Kaiden stood in the middle of the platform, swaying, a half-finished bottle clenched in one hand.
And then he saw him.
The manager. Same coat. Same smug face.
Kaiden's stomach twisted. His pride, drunk and trembling, surged for one last act.
"You think you can fire me and just walk away?!"
His slurred voice cut through the station.
The manager turned, startled.
Kaiden lunged. Or tried to. His feet tangled over the yellow safety tiles. The world tilted. People were shouting, but it all blurred under the screech of the approaching train.
The manager stepped aside like he'd seen it coming.
Kaiden's foot caught the edge of the platform.
And then—blinding light. Horns. Steel. Pain.
But the white didn't last.
Pain came instead. Raw, full-body agony like his soul was being soldered to a furnace.
His mouth wouldn't open. His limbs wouldn't respond. He wasn't in a hospital. He wasn't even whole.
"It lives. The soul is intact.""Transplant held. Core stable. Power flow… acceptable.""Excellent. Weapon K-01. Awaken."
Kaiden's eyes snapped open.
The ceiling wasn't steel or tile. It was stone—veined with pipes, flickering runes, and faint red glows. He couldn't feel his legs. One arm moved with a hiss and a rattle. Brass and copper had replaced bone and flesh. Tubes pulsed beneath his chest where a faintly glowing core spun in place of a heart.
His voice came out hoarse—gravel and metal.
"Wh...where…"
"Do not move."
A new voice. Cold. Precise. Heavy with command.
Kaiden turned his head.
A towering figure stood by the door. Clad in layered robes and armor etched with runes. Skin cracked like charred stone. Horns spiraling upward. Eyes like smoldering coals.
A demon.
"You are in the realm of Dyrmont. We retrieved your broken body. Reforged it. Rebuilt it. You are now in service to the Demon Lord."
Kaiden's breathing staggered. His pride flared.
"Reforged? You butchered me."
"You were shattered. Useless. We gave you purpose. In return, you serve."
Kaiden forced himself up on shaky, metallic legs.
"I don't serve demons."
"You think you have a choice?"
Kaiden smirked despite the pain. "You rebuilt me because you needed me. That means I'm valuable. And if I'm valuable…"
He raised his head, voice sharp despite the sparks crawling through his limbs.
"You don't own me."
The demon said nothing.
Then he raised a clawed hand and snapped.
Kaiden's entire body locked. A scream tore from his throat as every nerve flared—fire in every wire and bone. His thoughts fractured, hijacked by something embedded deep.
"You belong to us now," the demon growled. "Your core is ours. Disobey, and we melt you from the inside."
The pain stopped.
Kaiden collapsed.
The demon leaned in, voice a whisper of iron.
"Remember this, K-01. You live because we allow it. Freedom is not yours."
Later, confined to a cold stone cell, Kaiden sat in the shadows. Staring at his trembling hand of metal and wire.
Not broken. Not yet.
He looked down at the glowing engine in his chest. Beneath it—still there—was the thrum of something faintly human.
"Fine," he whispered. "I'll march. I'll kill. I'll obey."
His voice cracked with something bitter and violent.
"But one day… I'll make you regret putting me back together."