Once, in a land far away, there lived a man named Asm.
(You might ask, who is this Asm guy? Honestly—even I don't know. I made the name up when I was a kid.)
He was a man of great tyranny, feared across the entire land. In this modern fantasy world, he was known by many titles: the Second Son of God, Hell's greatest fear, and Heaven's unwanted gift.
Asm was so terrifying that the world itself had to bend just to survive. People didn't try to run from him—because they knew they couldn't. Instead, they chose to live out their final days in peace, accepting the end, knowing that escape was never an option.
But he wasn't always like this.
It all began long ago, on the day he was born. His parents were heroes of their era—legends of the present age. They possessed something known as Super Abilities, also called Gifts or Curses.
A Gift was a rare power—strong, unique, and sometimes unseen for over a million years. These abilities could bend reality itself.
A Curse, on the other hand, was a weaker imitation of a Gift—abilities like controlling the elements or enhancing the body. Useful, but nowhere near divine.
In this world, power decided fate.
And Asm was born into it.
It was late in the afternoon when his mother, Elizabeth, gave birth to the boy.
Before the delivery, her husband—a celebrated hero—had rushed her to the finest hospital in the city: Hermit Hospital. The hospital was filled with people gifted with powerful healing abilities, and because of them, it had not recorded a single death in years.
"Push," the doctor said.
She did.
Moments later, the baby was born.
But instead of joy, silence filled the room.
The doctor hesitated before speaking.
"The baby… is blind."
Elizabeth froze, shaking in disbelief. Rage burned through her eyes as she turned to the doctor. Ignoring everyone, she rose from the bed, snatched the baby from his hands, and stared at her child.
He had eyes.
But there were no pupils—only empty, pale orbs staring back at her.
Elizabeth screamed, her voice tearing through the room.
"This… this can't be my baby! This can't be my baby at all! A great hero like me—no!"
She turned to the doctor, her eyes blazing with fury.
"What did you do?! What did you do to my baby?!"
Blinded by rage, she lifted the baby high above her head and slammed him onto the ground. Her superhuman strength crushed the infant, scattering him into pieces. Without a shred of remorse, she turned to the doctor.
"My baby is dead," she said coldly. "Write it down. Tell everyone he died while he was still in me."
The doctor, pale and trembling, nodded.
"Y-yes…"
But before he could speak another word, he froze. His eyes widened in disbelief.
Piece by piece, the baby began to regenerate—bone to bone, flesh to flesh. Within moments, he was whole again. And then… he laughed.
It was a sound that made the blood run cold. A horrifying, unnatural laughter.
Elizabeth recoiled, horror etched across her face.
"No… this isn't possible," she whispered.
The baby smiled—bright and cheerful—as if the pain meant nothing to him.
As if he had enjoyed it.
Elizabeth stumbled back, terror finally breaking through her rage. Her hands shook as she demanded her phone. With trembling fingers, she dialed her husband.
"I'm leaving," she said, her voice sharp. "And when I do, I want this entire building erased."
Her husband's voice crackled on the line, confused.
"Elizabeth… what are you saying?"
"Destroy the hospital," she continued, her tone icy. "Tell the citizens they must leave the country. Those who can afford a flight may go. Leave the poor behind. Send every hero here—then return home with fabricated injuries."
There was a long pause.
"You… you can't be serious," he said finally.
"I am serious," she snapped, eyes darting to the baby. "The world must never know… that I gave birth to this monster. Do exactly as I say. Every word. No one can find out. Not a single soul."
Her husband's voice shifted, a grin creeping across it.
"I never really wanted a baby anyway," he said, then laughed—a cold, cruel laugh—before the call abruptly ended.
Elizabeth clenched her fists, grinding her teeth.
He is my baby. So it is my choice whether he lives or dies.
And with that, everything unfolded as she had planned. Her husband, the governor of the state, was powerless against her orders. The hospital was destroyed, the citizens forced to flee, and the heroes—sent to investigate—returned with fabricated injuries. The parents abandoned their life of luxury and heroism, leaving behind the child they could not accept.
Five years passed.
The camera of fate now turns back to the ruined town. Among the rubble, a giant rock—the weight of despair itself—pressed down on the boy. He had been trapped beneath it for five long years, crying, screaming, surviving.
Then, slowly, he lifted it.
He laughed.
A sound both terrifying and eerily joyful. It was all he could do, a mix of pain and release, for in those years under the rock, something had changed.
Some might call it a blessing.
For in the darkness, in the crushing weight of despair, he had gained a new power—a force capable of reshaping the world itself.
This was no longer a child. This was no longer a victim.
This was the beginning of a villain.
And this… was his story.