A Few Years Back — Ethan's Side
"Noooo, brother, please!!!"
Evan screamed—his first words since his mother's death... and apparently, his own. He was somewhere else now. A different plane of existence. A world completely unlike his own—and yet, strangely familiar. Like home… or at least, remnants of one.
The atmosphere was alien. The landscape, foreign. And he was utterly alone.
He woke up on the cold ground, dazed. Memories began to crash down on him like a tidal wave—pain, betrayal, hate. The unbearable sting of it all tore through his chest.
He was still sixteen when he died—or more accurately, when he was murdered.
By his own brother.
Now, in this strange new place, he looked around and whispered to himself, "Is this… heaven? Hell? Or something else entirely?" He had never been too religious, but he didn't rule out the possibilities.
Then—he heard a voice.
Distant.
And then… a man. Old, hunched, stepping into a house that hadn't been there a moment ago. It was as if it appeared from thin air.
Evan, confused but curious, followed. He moved cautiously, quietly, trying not to alert the stranger—just in case he was dangerous. He stepped into the house.
It looked small from the outside.
Inside?
It was massive. Mansion-sized, at the very least.
And then, the voice returned—this time, loud and clear.
"Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here?"
Startled, Evan replied, "I... I just want to go home."
A pause.
Then the old man answered, "You still don't get it. This is your home now. There's no proper way back."
"Why not?" Evan asked, his voice cracking.
"Because, child... you are dead. Your body is ash. Your flesh, long gone."
Ethan shuddered. "Who are you?"
"I'm called the Imp. And I've lived here for... oh, a thousand years or so. So long, I can't remember."
"Then—show yourself."
"I'm behind you."
Ethan spun around, heart racing.
And there stood the Imp—a two-foot-tall creature, aged beyond comprehension, eyes deep with strange knowledge.
Evan stumbled backward. "What do you mean, this is my home? I'm from Earth."
The Imp tilted his head. "Can't you feel it? The blood in your still-beating heart… carries the mark of Nevarious, this world."
"But... it's not clear. Because you… you're a half-blood."
The imp spoke with an eerie voice. You could just tell—there was more to him than met the eye.
Evan stood alone in a world unlike any he'd ever known. Concepts twisted, colors bent, and nothing felt real. With no one around, no direction, no answers, he dropped to his knees and turned to the imp.
"What do I do now?" he asked, voice hollow.
The imp tilted his head. "What do you want to do now? I'm not your God, nor your creator. I can only help you move forward or make a choice. So now the only question is: what do you want to do?"
Evan's heart burned with one answer. There was no real decision to make. He had lost everything—because of his brother. The betrayal still echoed through him. He had to go back. He had to face him. He had to know why.
"I want to return to Earth," Evan said.
The imp stared at him, long and heavy. "I've seen it all—friends turn to enemies, masters to servants. But there is nothing more dangerous than the hatred born of lost love. I'll help you… but only if this is truly what you want."
Evan didn't hesitate. "I know what I'm about to do. I know why I want to do it. The only question is—will you help me?"
The imp didn't want to. But something about the boy—something dark and broken yet familiar—compelled him. He gave in, and agreed to train him.
And so their strange journey began. A strange bond formed—something like father and son, yet twisted and uncertain. They both had voids inside them. And somehow, they filled those voids with each other.
Evan, it turned out, had Nefarious blood. But only half. One day, he asked the imp, "How am I a half-breed? Who was my father?"
The imp chuckled. "It doesn't work like that here. This place—it isn't meant to be tamed. Beings here are born free, wild. Your existence? Probably a result of overflow. Too much power. Too much energy."
"Then why's this place empty?" Evan asked.
"Because creatures born here… don't stay here. There are more worlds than one, child. And we've decided to visit them all."
That's when it truly began.
Brutal training. Relentless hours. Days turned to months. Months to years. Evan fought to unlock his abilities—to rise above them. He didn't just want power. He wanted vengeance.
With each session, the bloodlust inside him grew. The cheerful, hopeful child that once was Evan faded. What remained was bitter, angry, and cruel.
And the imp saw it.
He felt the change, feared what it could become. But he said nothing. Their bond was real—fragile, but real. And the imp couldn't bear to lose the only family he had left. So he did the only thing he could: he stretched out the training.
But the longer it dragged, the angrier Evan became. The stronger he grew.
Eventually, Evan made up his mind—all humans had to die. To him, none were worthy of life anymore. And the imp, deep down, understood that rage. So he kept feeding it, nurturing the hate, afraid that stopping it would mean losing Evan forever.
Because sometimes, the worst monsters aren't born—they're made.
Everything about Evan's evolution was troubling—but nothing more so than his firepower. A skill that should've taken years, maybe even decades to master, had become second nature to him. The Imp suspected why. Fire could be born from purpose, or from anger. And Evan's purpose was anger. It was hate, pure and corrosive.
Their conversations had grown heavier over time, shadows thickening between every word. One day, Evan finally asked the question that had been simmering beneath the surface:
"Why are you here, all alone? What happened to you?"
The Imp was quiet for a moment, as if dusting off old memories, then spoke.
"I was one of the strongest mages—maybe still am—in the Nefarious World. I conquered realms, defeated gods, watched empires rise and fall beneath my feet. And in the end? I lost everyone I ever cared about. So I returned to my home world. I just wanted to live out the rest of my days… watching sunsets, remembering the good moments."
He looked at Evan, eyes old and tired.
"Well… until I met you."
"Then why help me?" Evan asked, tone low.
"Because I know that anger in you," the Imp replied. "The kind that burns from the inside out. The kind that doesn't fade. I'd rather you not walk this path, Evan… but it's your choice. Still, let me tell you this:
No one has ever found peace in vengeance.
It might bring you a fleeting moment of freedom… but the pain? It lingers. And now, you'll have to carry the burden of killing your brother too."
But Evan had already made up his mind.
"You know what the hardest part was?" he said, voice steady but shaking at the core. "It wasn't the fire. It wasn't the pain. It was looking into the eyes of my own brother—the same eyes that had watched our mother die—and hearing him say 'for survival'.
Like that's all I was to him. A tool. A means to keep himself alive."
He took a deep breath, fire flickering beneath his skin.
"That's when I knew the truth. Humanity is flawed. Deeply. Fatally. They watched as my mother was dragged into the town square. They saw her beaten. They saw her killed. And then, the next day, they came for me. And not a single voice rose in protest."
Evan's eyes glowed with a fire that wasn't just magic—it was grief, and betrayal, and rage.
"My own brother. The one who grew up with me. The one who promised we'd protect each other. Who held our mother's hand and told her we'd always stick together… he was the one who killed me."
He let the silence stretch before breaking it again.
"I remember when we were kids, the others would mock us. Ash would always stand in front of me and say, 'As long as I'm here, nothing bad will happen to you.'
And I was stupid enough to believe him."
His fists clenched.
"Well now, it's all over. My mother's gone. She doesn't get a second chance like I did. She died because she dared to love us. Because she believed in kindness. And the people she grew up with, the ones who called her neighbor… they murdered her."
His voice turned cold.
"Tell me, does that sound like a species worth saving?
The human heart is filled with hate, with ignorance. And now? Now it's my job to burn it all down."
He looked at the Imp, who said nothing.
The days crept by, and the moment Evan had been dreading—or perhaps anticipating—drew nearer. He could feel it: he was almost ready to return. The imp sensed this shift too. Though it still resisted the idea, it didn't voice its objections as strongly as before. Instead, it took a different approach.
"Monster hunting," it suggested.
Evan raised an eyebrow. "Is that really necessary?"
The imp nodded, cloaking its true intentions behind a smirk. "It'll help sharpen your skills. You need to be at your best."
In truth, it was just another stall—a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. But Evan didn't argue. He was ready for whatever came next.
They left, world after world, under the pretense of training—of unlocking stronger abilities, refining instincts, mastering the hunt. But the truth was simpler. Uglier.
They were searching for an out.
Each world was another stall, another layer of distraction wrapped in violence and blood. The imp spun lies with ease, its voice a thread of manipulation, but Evan wasn't blind. He saw through it. He just chose not to speak.
Not yet.
Because part of him wanted to believe. That maybe, in the chaos, he'd find something—anything—to justify the running. To justify staying away.
But the monsters they hunted weren't the only things waiting in the dark. Sooner or later, the truth would catch up.
And there would be no more worlds left to run to.