The rain hammered against the city's glass and steel, as if the heavens themselves were trying to wash away the sins of the world. On a rooftop high above the chaos below, Aaron—the name whispered with dread in every corner of the globe—leaned against a rusted air vent. His breath was shallow, and a dull throb of pain spread from his bleeding shoulder. The bullet wound wasn't fatal, but the betrayal? That stung more than any injury could.
He wiped the blood from his mouth and grinned. This was not how the story was supposed to end. But then again, Aaron had never played by anyone's rules.
He had already seen it all unfolding—every step of the mission was like a page from a manga he'd already read. The target, the plan, the betrayal, even the bullet that struck him. But there was one part of the story that was his, a chapter long buried in his past, a tale that began when he was just a boy.
---
Years ago, in the shadow of towering city skyscrapers, there was only one thing that mattered: survival. And no one knew that better than the orphan boy named Aaron, who roamed the alleyways. His name, once a part of a forgotten family, was all he had left. His parents? Gone. His family? Abandoned. All he had were his quick hands, his sharp instincts, and his ability to disappear into the darkness.
He had learned early that trust was a luxury no one could afford. On the streets, a smile meant a trap, and kindness was a weapon. So, he did what he needed to survive—stealing. It was the one thing he was good at. From food to money, shiny trinkets, anything that could get him through the day. His fingers were like the wind, fast and unseen, always slipping past the watches of the city's wealthy.
One night, while attempting to lift a silver watch from a rich merchant's pocket, Aaron was caught. His body was thrown against the cold stone wall of a narrow alley, his heart pounding in his chest. The merchant, his fat fingers twitching with rage, was ready to call the guards.
"Thief!" the merchant had shouted, his voice echoing through the alley.
But as Aaron braced for the worst, something unexpected happened. From the shadows, a figure stepped forward, tall and dark. His presence swallowed the alleyway, like the night itself had come alive. Aaron, wide-eyed, recognized the aura of someone who wasn't just another street thug. This man, whoever he was, was different.
Aaron braced himself, but instead of the expected punishment, the figure simply stared at him with cold, calculating eyes. The merchant, confused and intimidated by the presence of the stranger, faltered.
"Let him go," the man said, his voice smooth, like velvet over steel. "He's mine."
The merchant, too terrified to argue, backed off, muttering under his breath. The man turned his gaze to Aaron, inspecting him like a rare piece of art. Aaron, wary but unafraid, met his gaze without flinching.
"You're good," the man said after a long pause, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Too good for a street rat. Tell me, kid—why are you wasting your talents on petty theft when you could be something... greater?"
Aaron frowned. "What do you mean?"
The man crouched to meet him eye-to-eye, his gaze never leaving Aaron's face. "I'm not offering you charity. I'm offering you power. A chance to make something of yourself. You could learn to control the world, not just take from it."
Aaron's heart skipped a beat. Power? Control? It sounded like a fairy tale. But the way the man spoke, with such certainty, with such control—it felt real. For the first time, Aaron saw a possibility he hadn't dared to imagine.
"Who are you?" Aaron asked, cautious but curious.
"Call me your teacher," the man said, standing up and offering his hand. "And I will teach you the skills to carve your name into history. You can be more than a thief. You can become a killer."
Aaron hesitated for only a moment. Survival had been his life's rule, and the streets had never offered him more than hunger and pain. But this man? He was an enigma. And for the first time in years, Aaron felt something stir inside him—a longing for more.
---
From that day on, Aaron's life changed. The man, who had introduced himself as his "mentor," took him in, taught him everything. Not just how to steal, but how to kill. How to blend into the shadows, how to read people like books, how to use his body and mind as weapons. Each lesson was harder than the last, and with each lesson, Aaron grew stronger, faster, more lethal.
He learned how to break a man's neck in silence, how to disappear without leaving a trace, how to move through the world like a ghost. Every time he failed, his mentor was there, cold and unflinching, showing no mercy. Pain became a constant companion, but so did the sense of power growing within him. Slowly, Aaron realized that he was no longer just a survivor—he was becoming an instrument of death.
Years passed, and Aaron, now a young man, became known as The Devil—a title given to him by the world that feared his name. But even then, the shadows of his past remained. The city that had abandoned him, the cold streets, and the man who had shaped him into what he had become.
---
Now, years later, as the mission unfolded before him—his gun aimed, his target in sight—Aaron smiled to himself, knowing exactly how the story would end. A perfect shot, a perfect escape. Or so he thought.
But as his bullet hit its mark, something didn't feel right. His instincts, honed from years of training, flared up. He staggered back just as another bullet tore into his shoulder.
Aaron's breath caught in his throat as a voice rang out from the shadows. "You always were so confident, weren't you?"
The mentor. His former teacher. The one who had raised him, taught him how to kill, how to think. The man who had crafted Aaron into the assassin he had become.
"Did you really think you could outsmart me?" the mentor sneered, stepping into the moonlight. "I created you. I owned you."
Aaron's lips curled into a grin, even as blood dripped from his wound. "You think you had control, old man? You really believe you were the one who shaped me?" He laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "I've been outplaying you from the start."
The mentor's eyes narrowed. "Outplayed? You think you're some kind of genius? You were just a tool to me—my finest weapon. And now I'm discarding you, just like I always planned.You might be The Devil, But I'm the King"
Aaron's grin widened. "Really? You still don't see it, do you? You're just like every villain I've ever read about. The mentor who thinks he's invincible, the one who betrays the pupil because he believes he controls the game. But you? You never understood who I was."
The mentor laughed darkly, his hand reaching for his sidearm. "You always were a fool. You can't kill me. You're too weak. You're dying, just like I planned."
But before the final shot could be fired, a sound caught the mentor off guard—the soft click of multiple weapons being drawn.
Aaron's grin spread even further. "You really thought you had everyone fooled, huh?"
The guards, the men who had stood by the mentor's side for years, stepped out of the shadows. But instead of aiming their guns at Aaron, they turned them on their master.
"What... what is this?" The mentor stammered, his face contorting in disbelief. "You can't do this! I gave you everything! I taught you everything!"
One of the guards, a former soldier with cold eyes, stepped forward, his voice steady. "You gave us lies, old man. You turned us into your tools, your puppets. But we weren't blind. We saw what you really are. And now? Now you're the one who's expendable."
Another guard sneered. "We've known for a long time. You were the one who was never loyal to us. We're done taking your orders."
The mentor's eyes widened, the weight of his betrayal sinking in. His grip on his weapon faltered as he looked around, realizing that the very men he had trusted had turned against him.
Aaron chuckled. "You really didn't see this coming, did you? You thought I was the only one you could manipulate. But you were too busy trying to control me to realize you'd already lost everyone else."
The mentor staggered back, his voice rising in desperation. "No... no! I—"
"Don't waste your breath," Aaron interrupted, his voice cold. "You're just like the villains in those anime I used to watch, always thinking you're the main character. But the truth is, you were never anything more than a pawn."
The guards didn't hesitate. In perfect unison, they opened fire.
The mentor's body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his once-imposing figure now nothing more than a lifeless heap. Aaron stood, slowly walking towards him, still grinning through the pain of his wound. The rain soaked through his clothes, mixing with the blood from his shoulder, but he didn't care.
He looked down at the fallen figure, his voice low and amused. "You really think I would've let you win? Nah, you were just my last mission, old man. And you failed."
Aaron stood up, eyes cold and defiant, as the guards made their way into the shadows. He didn't need to say anything more. He didn't need to explain that he had seen this betrayal from the beginning, that he had let it happen, only to toy with his mentor until the very end.
He raised his gun, still smiling as the weight of the mission lifted off his shoulders.
"Guess it's time for the curtain call," he murmured to himself, as his former mentor's lifeless body stared back at him.