The air in David's staff room hung heavy, thick with the scent of stale coffee and the faint hum of a flickering fluorescent light. He slumped into the worn leather chair, his broad shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. His eyes, bloodshot and hollow, traced the cracks in the ceiling as if they held answers to the chaos gnawing at his soul. Rest was a fleeting illusion for David—a man whose hands had sculpted peace only to shatter it with a single, unforgivable mistake. The scene was quiet, mundane, a deceptive calm before the storm that brewed in another timeline, one far darker, far crueler.
The camera of the mind's eye shifted, pulling back through the veils of time and space, plunging into a world where shadows reigned supreme. A black castle loomed against a sky of endless night, its jagged spires clawing at the void. Inside, chained to a cold stone wall, was another David—his wrists bound by rusted iron, his body trembling with a rage so deep it seemed to pulse through the very air. This David, a prisoner of his own making, stared at the floor, his matted hair falling over a face carved with anguish. The chains clinked faintly as he shifted, each sound a reminder of his eternal captivity. He was no mere man now; he was a vessel of vengeance, a monster awaiting release, forged by the sins of the David who sat in that staff room, oblivious to the horrors he'd unleashed.
Footsteps echoed through the cavernous hall, deliberate and slow, a predator's approach. Chained David's head snapped up, his breath catching as a faceless figure emerged from the darkness. Cloaked in black, the stranger moved like a ghost, the hem of his robe trailing across the stone floor like spilled ink. His presence was suffocating, a cold dread that seeped into the cracks of David's fractured mind.
"David, oh David," the figure rasped, his voice a low, mocking hiss that slithered through the air. "What a mess to see you in."
Chained David's eyes narrowed, confusion warring with the fury boiling in his chest. He tugged at his restraints, the metal biting into his flesh, but he said nothing—could say nothing, his voice stolen by the seal that bound him.
The figure stepped closer, his hood casting an impenetrable shadow over his face. "Oh my God," he continued, his tone dripping with false pity. "The skeletons of your father, your brother, your sister, your wife, your child… all gone. A hard life, isn't it? A world so peaceful, now reduced to ash and ruin."
David's heart thundered, each word a dagger twisting deeper into his soul. His family—his everything—flashed before his eyes: his wife's gentle smile, his child's laughter, all snuffed out because of him. The original David. The monster from the main timeline who had torn through their lives like a wildfire.
The figure tilted his head, as if savoring David's torment. "You had a peaceful life, didn't you? If you hadn't tried to kill him, the story would've been so different. But now? It's all gone. A small mistake, isn't it? Well, the past is the past, David."
He drifted closer, his cloak brushing against the chains, and David's gaze flicked upward to the throne at the far end of the hall—a twisted, skeletal seat that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. The figure's voice softened, a cruel mockery of kindness. "You have questions, don't you? Who am I? Why are you here? Let's see… how should I start? Am I a messenger? A guide? Or perhaps someone here to help you? Hmm, what am I, David? You're so alone, aren't you? That peaceful, happy world you built—gone. You're the last one alive in this wretched timeline. Such cruelty, isn't it?"
David's chest heaved, his rage a living thing clawing to break free. The figure chuckled, a sound that echoed like breaking glass. "Well, well, let's get to business, shall we, David? You know your mistake changed everything. The whole plot twisted because of you. But there's a chance—a chance to repair it all. You can bring them back. Your family. This world."
David's eyes widened, a flicker of hope piercing the darkness of his despair. The figure leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know the main timeline's David, don't you? A monster. A devil. A man who destroys anyone in his path."
A sudden surge of magic crackled through the air, and the seal on David's throat shattered. He gasped, his voice raw and ragged as it tore free. "How… how can I speak?"
The figure's tone was smug. "I let you speak. Now listen."
David's mind reeled, but he forced the words out, each one laced with suspicion. "What do you need me to do, mister?"
The figure straightened, his cloak billowing as if caught in an unseen wind. "You need to create something for me. And I need you to kill the original David. He's grown too powerful—far beyond my reach. That's why I'm giving you this opportunity. Gather every David from every timeline. Build a new world. Forge an army. Then kill him."
A laugh erupted from David's throat, wild and unhinged, bouncing off the castle walls. The figure's tone turned icy. "Why are you laughing, you idiot?"
David's laughter faded into a bitter snarl. "I know I shouldn't have done it. I should've left the original David alone. My mistake. But you—telling me you'll free me, that I'll gather every timeline's David and build a new world? Wow, such a spicy plan. Ha! And you know what? What if I refuse?"
The figure's voice hardened, each word a shard of ice. "So you're refusing my offer? A chance to bring back what you've lost?"
David's gaze burned with defiance. "I don't want to kill people. I don't want revenge. Oh, I crave it—God, I crave it. Revenge tastes sweet in the moment, but its bitterness lingers, staining the soul with regret. After I kill billions, will I be happy? Ha! Never. I don't want it. So what now? You gonna kill me? Do it."
The figure paused, then let out a low, amused hum. "Wow, such a surprising turn of events. I wasn't expecting this. No, I won't kill you."
David's eyes narrowed, a sudden realization cutting through his rage. "I know who you are. You're one of the timeline Davids, aren't you?"
A sharp, chilling laugh erupted from the figure. "Ha! I knew it. The next most powerful, most genius David after the original is you. Who knows? It's a fifty-fifty chance."
He stepped back, his voice taking on a victorious edge. "I've enjoyed our little chat, but I'll ask one last time. Join me. Build an army of Davids."
David's response was a roar, raw and unshakable. "No! I refuse!"
The figure sighed, a sound heavy with mock disappointment. "Well, I didn't expect that answer from you. As I said, I won't kill you. Enjoy your peaceful life in this black castle—alone."
With a flick of his hand, the seal snapped back into place, silencing David once more. His screams died in his throat, trapped behind the magic as the figure turned and glided toward the massive doors. "Plan failed," he muttered to himself. "Time for a small rework."
The doors creaked open, revealing a void beyond, and the figure vanished into it. The camera lingered on David, his chained form trembling with a mix of rage, sorrow, and helplessness, the weight of his refusal settling into the silence.
The scene snapped back to the original timeline. David—the monster, the devil—pushed open the door to a classroom, his movements sharp and deliberate. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across his face. His eyes, cold and unreadable, scanned the empty room. The chapter closed on that suspenseful note, the air thick with the promise of horrors yet to unfold.