A chilling silence settled over the prison. Then, the voice came again, amplified, pressing into every corner of the crumbling stone walls.
"You cling to defiance like a rat clings to scraps in a dying city." His voice wasn't rushed or enraged—it was calculating, savoring each syllable like a predator with infinite patience.
"You breathe, and chaos follows. You exist, and the order trembles. But you—you are nothing more than a fleeting anomaly. A sickness that must be cured."
I felt the weight of his words pressing against my chest, crawling under my skin like a slow, creeping disease.
Footsteps echoed—slow, methodical. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him. The boys who had defended me shifted their grips on their weapons, hands slick with sweat.
"Look at them," the voice urged, slithering into their thoughts. "Their muscles ache, their hands tremble. They could have walked away, could have lived."
A low chuckle.
"But no—your foolishness infects them. You drag them into the abyss with you."
The darkness made everything worse. I couldn't tell how many bodies lay cold on the ground. I couldn't see who was still standing. Only his voice remained, wrapping around us like chains.
"Surrender," the voice whispered now, gentler, almost compassionate. "Drop your weapons, end this fight. You are all but chess pieces tipped over, waiting to be swept from the board."
Silence.
I let out a slow breath. I refused to break. Not here. Not now.
"If you are the higher power, why do you beg me to surrender?" My lips curled in defiance. "Are you that desperate to get your pay cheque?"
A pause. Then, laughter—a low, bone-chilling sound.
"Oh, boy…" the voice purred. "You're going to wish you hadn't said that."
"Ha ha ha?" His laughter echoed through the darkness, sharp and jagged like broken glass. "There is something you don't understand, boy," he said, his voice dripping with malice.
I tilted my head, feigning calm, though my pulse hammered in my ears. "And what is that?" I asked, my tone cool, as if the odds were somehow in my favor.
He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, even in the pitch-black void. "I am the last person you will ever see," he hissed, his words slithering into my mind. "As I peel off your skin, layer by layer, my face will be burned into your soul. A face that will haunt you in the pits of hell, long after your screams have faded."
His words clawed at my resolve, but I clenched my fists, refusing to let him see the fear creeping into my veins.
"I am sorry to disappoint you," I said, voice unwavering despite the blood-soaked chaos around us. "Heaven and Hell are not physical places, but states of consciousness—trials every soul must endure on this school called Earth."
The darkness swallowed his reaction for a moment. Then came a slow, amused exhale.
"Metaphysics?" His tone dripped with mockery. "You think philosophy will spare you, boy? You think your clever words will change what is coming?"
I met the abyss where his presence loomed, refusing to yield. "You preach about order, yet ignore the truth—this universe is disturbed by more than just me. Every man in this room, every bullet fired, every choice made, we all contribute to the upheaval. To deny that would be to deny yourself."
A beat of silence.
Then, the sound of movement, deliberate and slow.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "A man who rationalizes his own destruction. Tell me, boy—will your mind still seek reason when the agony begins?"
"Do you think you are the first one to attempt to kill me?" I challenged him, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me.
"Very good, my boy," he sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I shall then free you from your state of mind, whichever it may be."
I smirked, though my heart pounded like a war drum. "You can't free me," I retorted, my words cutting through the darkness. "Not even I can. Only the Mercy of God can do that. It's all grace—the Grace of God."
His laughter echoed, sharp and mocking, but I didn't falter. I wasn't a fool. I knew his words were meant to distract, to break me. But I had my own game to play. As I spoke, I scanned the shadows, searching for the loophole, the crack in his armor, the path to freedom.
Doctor Ishaan's fingers trembled as she loosened the restraints on my wrists. The moment I felt the last strap fall away, I lunged—not at her, but at the keys clutched in her trembling hands. Cold metal pressed into my palm as I hastily unlocked the chains binding my legs.
She didn't fight me. She didn't shout. She simply stood there, watching.
Her gaze was sharp, dissecting me piece by piece, as if stripping away the last illusion that I was human. In her eyes, I was nothing more than a savage—a beast unfit for existence.
I could see the curse forming in her heart, unspoken but palpable. Ungrateful animal.
The grimace twisting her face wasn't anger—it was certainty. The certainty that I was something that needed to be erased, something that should not have been allowed to exist beyond this moment.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn't deserve to live.
But no one—no one—had the right to take my life away. Not even myself.
"God exists and is in all existing beings," I declared, my voice steady despite the suffocating dread in the room. "That alone qualifies me to have the right to live."
Silence. Then—slow footsteps.
"Contratino boy," his voice slithered through the dark, amused yet calculating. "You know what she said when she sent me?"
I clenched my fists, refusing to take the bait.
"She called you an aberration," he continued, voice smooth as silk laced with poison. "A sickness that must be eradicated, not for vengeance—but for balance."
His words pressed against my mind like a weight, testing the foundation of my conviction.
"If your existence is ordained," he mused, "why is it that every force in this world seeks to erase you?"
I refused to break.
"Because they fear what they do not understand," I shot back, my grip tightening around the keys. "They fear the unknown, they fear change, and most of all—they fear the truth."
A chuckle, low and mocking.
"Or maybe, boy…" he murmured, stepping closer, "there is no fear. Only inevitability."