The clown attacked, engaging in a fierce clash with Amkshurar. He struck Amkshurar in the chest with his foot, then grabbed him by the hair and struck him again.
Amkshurar regained his balance and retaliated with a blow to the clown's windpipe before stabbing him three times in the chest. He then forcefully struck the knife embedded in the clown's body, sending him crashing into a bookshelf, collapsing onto the shelves.
Outside, a tense crowd waited anxiously for the fight to end, all hoping for Neophyte's victory. The police considered intervening, but the mayor ordered them to stand down. The mayor wore a wide grin, as everyone anticipated the one who would emerge from the room alive.
In absolute darkness, Neophyte stood still, surrounded by an endless void. A towering, terrifying figure appeared before him—a giant with unnervingly long hair, standing over Neophyte with arms outstretched. In a rough, commanding voice, he spoke:
"Annihilate them, O Mysterious One. End the age of humanity, rid this world of its filth. Do it, just as you have done before. Do it, Servenius!"
When the Mysterious One speaks in the language of slaughter, the message will reach the closest figure aligned with such purpose.
German awakened from his daze, while Amkshurar, still enraged, gritted his teeth and shouted:
"Didn't I stab him with all my strength? Didn't I make him see death before killing him? Then why is this monster still standing before me?!"
German raised his arms horizontally, his voice filled with arrogance and pride:
"Among thirteen worlds, I alone am the revered one!"
Before Amkshurar could react, German grabbed him by the throat and hurled him out of a third-floor window. Then, without hesitation, he leaped after him.
The crowd gathered in the backyard, eager to witness the battle. Some whispered among themselves:
"Are the mutants reappearing?"
The mayor, upon seeing German, felt an overwhelming sense of dread creeping through his bones.
Amkshurar spat blood at German and hurled a set of knives at him, striking his foot. But German swiftly returned the blades, one of them piercing the stomach of the knife manufacturer, triggering a malfunction that caused a massive explosion on the right side of his abdomen.
Blood gushed from Amkshurar's wounds. He struggled to remove the knife from his stomach, but the searing pain was unbearable. German stepped toward him, pressing a dagger into his left side. Amkshurar's scream echoed through the air.
German looked down at him in disgust and said:
"This is how the voices of those you murdered sounded, Amkshurar. The reason I despise you with such intensity, the reason I loathe you, is because of what you did to that dwarf's family."
Amkshurar, smirking defiantly despite the pain, spat blood again and taunted:
"They were some of the finest victims I ever killed. The screams of the children… exquisite, like a melody."
The moment those words left his mouth, German struck him across the face with such force that ten of his teeth shattered. He continued beating him relentlessly, his blows turning Amkshurar's skull into a fractured mess.
The police intervened, dragging German away from the battered body of Amkshurar.
As German gazed upon his fallen opponent, flashes of the past surged through his mind, as if someone was trying to make him understand something.
Amkshurar had once been an ordinary child—innocent, full of dreams. But his life had been steeped in darkness from the start. Born into filth and homelessness, he never knew his father, and his mother was a volatile woman who lay with any man who crossed her path, leaving her son alone in a world that knew only cruelty.
At school, he was relentlessly bullied. At home, instead of solace, he found torment—his mother and her transient lovers mocked and humiliated him without mercy.
Yet, despite his bleak existence, Amkshurar was an exceptionally bright child with a deep love for reading. His greatest passion was chess, where he found refuge for his sharp mind. But the relentless cruelty surrounding him festered in his soul, slowly hardening his heart into stone.
One fateful day, he returned home to find his mother's lifeless body sprawled on the floor, murdered in a manner too gruesome to comprehend. Though she had never shown him love, an unbearable grief consumed him—love, twisted and buried deep, still tied him to the woman who had abandoned him.
That day, something inside him snapped.
He fled to a church, seeking refuge. But peace eluded him. His bottled rage turned into a nightmare, haunting him wherever he went. He began killing animals, setting fires—desperate to extinguish the inferno raging within him. But even the most furious flames find something to douse them.
For Amkshurar, that something was Mali.
One day, while playing chess on the church steps at eighteen, a girl sat beside him and made a move on the board with surprising skill. When he looked up, he saw her for the first time—snow-white hair, striking green eyes, beauty beyond anything he had known. Her presence was a warm breeze in his endless winter.
From that moment on, his life changed. They played chess together, spent time outside, and, for the first time, love entered his heart. He pursued his education and majored in physics, channeling his energy into something meaningful. By twenty-five, he married Mali—the only light in his life. He loved her dearly and worked tirelessly to make her happy.
But fate had never been kind to Amkshurar.
One dark evening, after a long, exhausting day, he returned home carrying a bouquet of flowers and a hopeful smile. But as he opened the door, he was met with a nightmare beyond comprehension—his wife hanging from the ceiling, strangled in a cruel execution, their unborn child cut from her body.
He collapsed, paralyzed by horror.
Then, a hand gripped his shoulder. A whisper, laden with a promise, slithered into his ear:
"I have a gift for you… use it well."
From that moment on, Amkshurar became a monster.
Each murder he committed was like a calculated move in his twisted game of chess, pushing him toward an inevitable end.
But in the end, it was German who put an end to his reign of terror—the final move that extinguished the fire once and for all.
Amkshurar had become a merciless butcher, a man who despised death yet knew his own life had been stolen from him long ago.
AND THIS, THE END OF BLACK AND WHITE