Months passed like dust settling over a closed casket—quiet, inevitable, heavy with the weight of unfinished business.
Despite my efforts, both the Light Guardian and the Emerald remained frustratingly out of reach. Clues vanished like mist. Sources went silent. My main mission stagnated.
Still, I remembered every promise owed to me, every deal left hanging. My mind felt like a computer with too many tabs open—each one a thread begging to be pulled.
And finally, one thread blinked awake.
It was time for Andrea to uphold her end of our bargain.
The contract she signed—to keep her staff in the Elimination Company—required that she submit a name every quarter.
A name to be erased from existence.
That allowed me to keep tabs on the most dangerous creatures slithering through this town.
They could be food. Pawns. Or a threat I'd get the pleasure of eliminating.
Pure excitement.
It would have to be a name she wanted gone. Someone dangerous. Someone who slipped through the cracks of law and order.
This was my passion. My hunt. Their end.
It carried my father's legacy forward—being the boogeyman that monsters feared.
It reminded me of him in the most vivid, visceral ways.
I am not sentimental. It just reminds me of my own origins.
As I walked down the street, I felt their eyes on me.
"He's so dreamy," one whispered.
Sometimes I wish my looks only affected my enemies.
But mortals? They never understand how little they matter in the grander scheme of things.
Then came the catcall. A second. A click of a camera.
When does it end?
"Careful," I said, teasingly. "Taking photos without permission is a chargeable offense."
I winked at the woman holding the camera.
She fainted on the spot.
"Oh my gosh, he winked at me!" another gasped, breathless.
Amusing. But more than anything, it was a reminder: humans have no defenses against me.
I never weaponised this effect. It simply is.
And no matter how much I want to, I can't turn it off.
I never asked to be worshipped. But it happens.
And like all things that worship too blindly, they tend to crumble the moment I look their way.
To avoid attention, I often arrive as smog—formless, silent, unseen.
But today, I walked.
Some days, I need the chaos.
A reminder that I'm still on the board.
By the time I reached the law firm, I was eager to shed the attention.
Delancy handed me an envelope as I passed her desk, pulling me from my thoughts.
"What's this?" I asked, my tone cool, distant.
"It's from the Elimination Company," she replied, voice flat as ever. "A woman named Andrea. Her staff dropped it off earlier."
Andrea, keeping her word?
A pleasant surprise.
A deal honoured.
Delancy, unfazed as always, returned to work—ordering Mrs. Flowers to refill the coffee pot.
Her robotic calm contrasted sharply with the wild churn of the world I lived in. That's why I kept her close.
In my office, I traced the envelope's edges, savouring the moment.
What name would she give me? Someone vile? Or worse—someone who deserved it?
I tore it open.
One word. One name.
Ink black as curses, burning through the page:
Devyn Devourox.
Of course.
I'd heard of him.
The Destroyer of Worlds.
The guardian killer.
A name whispered between realms.
A myth. A nightmare.
And now?
My next assignment.
The profile enclosed wasn't just criminal.
It was apocalyptic.
Even I felt it then—something I rarely do:
Anticipation.