Age 15
Lucen had lived one year in the city.
By now, he had a rhythm—school in the morning, work at night, rooftop by soul.
He didn't have friends. Not real ones. But there was one person he trusted.
Tariq.
A local food stall boy. Orphan. Sharp-tongued, honest, loyal. He called Lucen "Mountain Ghost" and joked that he probably trained with kung fu monks.
He wasn't far off.
Sometimes Lucen delivered his orders early just to talk. They'd sit on crates, share burnt noodles, laugh about how broken the world was.
Tariq reminded him it still had a heartbeat.
Until that night.
The alley was narrow. Wet. Stinking of rain and oil.
Lucen heard the scream as he turned the corner behind the shop.
He didn't think. He dropped the box and ran.
Too fast. Way too fast for a normal kid.
He saw it all in one breath:
Tariq, curled on the ground. Blood leaking from his mouth.
Three men standing over him. Drunk. Older. One with a knife. One laughing.
Lucen shouted.
They turned.
And then the man with the knife stabbed Tariq again.
Something inside Lucen cracked.
The first man died instantly—neck shattered against the wall.
The second went flying into a dumpster. Metal bent like paper.
The third—Lucen grabbed by the jaw.
Lifted him off the ground.
Eyes glowing silver.
The man begged. Screamed. Swore it was a mistake.
Lucen didn't speak.
His hand lit with fire.
He burned him alive.
Somewhere behind him, someone screamed again. A phone camera caught the moment. A flash. A click. A video.
By morning, the city was boiling.
Demon Boy Murders Man in Alley.
Who is this freak?
That wasn't justice. That was slaughter.
He's a monster.
Lucen sat in his dark apartment and read every word.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He tried to explain. Tried to breathe.
But the guilt twisted with rage. Rage with grief. Grief with something else.
Something older than him.
And then, it started.
His skin cracked. Veins darkened. His breath turned heavy and cold.
It wasn't fire this time.
It was void.
He couldn't scream. Muscles twisted. Bones stretched. Veins turned black like ink.
Horns started to form—then shattered. His eyes split into four, glowing like broken moons.
He wasn't human.
He wasn't devil.
He was something else.
Something ancient.
He moved without walking.
Phased through walls.
Streetlights burst. Windows melted. Air rippled with dread.
Half the district turned to ash.
And then it was over.
He collapsed.
When he woke, it was cold. Wet leaves. Torn clothes.
He was lying in the woods.
The city was burning behind him.
He screamed.
Not with power. With pain.
What am I?
He sent one message.
To one man.
Eshun.
They met on a broken train bridge. The sun hadn't risen. The monk looked older.
Lucen fell to his knees.
I lost control. I killed again. I destroyed everything.
Eshun sat beside him.
Not everything.
Lucen stared at the ground.
Am I evil?
Eshun didn't answer right away.
You're not finished.
Lucen disappeared.
No more school. No more job. No more club nights.
He started living in the cracks.
In the alleys. On rooftops. In old sewers and ruined train yards.
He wore hoodies. Watched from shadows. Saved lives no one else saw.
People still called him a monster.
He let them.
Let them fear me. I'll save them anyway.
He wasn't the devil's son.
Not anymore.
He was Lucen.
The fallen flame.
The silent light.
The watcher in smoke.
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Next Chapter:- CHAPTER 5: ASHES NEVER Sleep 😴