Bound By Fury:The Forced Path

The next morning Akira pays the taxi driver and climbs out onto the sidewalk, gazing off in the direction of the distant hospital.

He decides to go see his mother, but as he makes his way down the sidewalk, he notices the figure huddled against the curb: a scrawny, homeless old man in tattered layer after layer, his face obscured under a snarled mass of grey hair.

Akira reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few coins, and tosses them into the old man's cup barely looking his way.

His gnarled fingers suddenly wrap around Akira's hand and keep him in place. Surprisingly strong, his grip draws Akira's attention right away. He lifted his head, revealing his face: a disturbing, twisted grin was spreading across his face; his eyes gleaming with something dark.

"Ah."

"Thank you, young man,"

He says in a low grating voice.

"Truly, I am grateful."

"But tell me… He leans forward with that unnerving grin spreading.

"What could this old soul possibly can do to return the favor to you?"

Akira looks down, and for a second, a flash of annoyance crosses his face.

"You can't even do anything for yourself."

"And what could you do for me?"

The man's laughter cuts the air in shrill, unnerving tones:

"Kheehehehe do not be so sure."

"Sometimes the helpless have in store gifts."

"Now, boy, what is that bothers you?"

Akira gazes up at him a little longer.

"Revenge,"

He said, voice as cold as his stare.

For one quick, electric moment, his dark eyes flashed white-a shine of something hard and unyielding.

The old man shocked for a moment wide his eyes then he only laughs, his laughter now replaced by the echo of some strange satisfaction.

"This old sense of mine it never misses an interesting soul."

He reaches into the folds of his tattered coat and pulls out a small, dark-colored pill, which he holds between his thin fingers.

"Take this,"

He says, extending it to Akira,

"One day just once this will be useful for whatever purpose that may be."

Akira looks down at the pill in the old man's hand, the faintest sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks, old man. I'm sure this… thing will be great for killing rats."

His tone is laced with sarcasm, his indifference cutting.

The old man chuckles again; the chuckle fades into an unsettling quiet as the eyes watch Akira take the pill from his hands.

As Akira walks away from this encounter, he looks down at the dark pill in his hand and murmurs to himself.

"Let me scan this and see what kinda useless junk he gave me."

He opens his status window with a thought, focusing on the pill, and information flashes across his vision:

"Scan"

[Black Pill]

[Level: ?????]

[Effect: ?????]

[Consumable Item Type]

[Source: Demonic Energy]

Akira's eyes narrow the moment he reads those last two words.

Demonic Energy.

He explodes in fury, like the first touch of a spark to dry wood.

Immediately, his aura gathered, churning in a white mist around him, while his face twists with tightly clenched fury. An icy shine grips his eyes now, cold and predator-like; it is as if some kind of demon had arisen inside him, savoring blood on his tongue.

He grits his teeth and looks down the street for any sign of the old man, but the sidewalk is empty.

Not even the hint of him was left, as if he evaporated in the air.

"Where did that bastard go?"

Akira hisses, his voice a low growl. He curses under his breath, tightening his grip on the pill.

"Damn it… I'm not here for this."

Sighing deeply, he pockets the pill, for its safety is now guaranteed inside his inventory.

He made himself refocus, but still, an aura of anger remained in his face as he faced back toward the hospital.

Far above him, on the edge of the high-rise building, the old man sits, observing Akira's retreating figure with a twisted grin curling across his lips.

Ancient eyes, still sharp, gleamed with an eerie satisfaction.

"Kheehehe… in all my years I have never met a young one harboring such malice…"

His voice is in humor, having watched Akira's going away , with the aura around the youngster, like some sort of terrible storm.

"Living this long truly does have its perks," his eyes nailed on Akira.

"You get to see such a youngling, with such hatred so rich and deep, like poison that has seeped into his very soul…"

He laughs, a low, reverberating sound taken away with the wind. His eyes narrow, taking in every single detail of the mass of malice pouring from Akira's form, each wave thick and terrifying, wrapping around him like an inferno.

"Oh, yes… this one is worth watching."

The old man's grin broadens, his expression a mix of hunger and intrigue.

"We will meet again, young one, and you will show me just how far inside that darkness will take you."

And then, with one final, resounding chuckle, he disappears leaving but an echo of his maniacal laugh on the wind.

Akira enters the hospital, the smell of disinfectant heavy in his nose, as he navigates through the halls that were silent.

With each step he took, the closer he was getting to his mother's room, the weight seemed heavier inside him, mixed with anticipation and foreboding.

Finally, when he reached the door, he took a deep breath and slipped inside.

Inside, the soft hum of the machinery fills the room; every beep and whirr, a reminder of the fragility of life.

He stops dead in his tracks, his eyes falling upon his mother, who lies still in her hospital bed.

Once so full of warmth and laughter, now pale and worn, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Akira's hands clench at his sides, his heart tightening.

"She's… worse than before."

It hits him like a ton of bricks. His usual composure cracks as he stands there, feeling helpless.

He has faced monsters, dungeons, threats , but none of that compares to the helplessness now gnawing at him.

He leans forward, drawing a chair up beside her bed and easing himself into it.

There is almost complete silence between them now, and he catches himself gripping the edge of the chair, fighting with words that would not come.

"I thought. you'd be better by now," 

"...Even if it was only a little"

He mutters under his breath, voice low and raw.

"How much more can you keep fighting?"

He recalls how as a child he would watch her smiles, her scolding, the encouragement to be hardier, better.

She had always been his rock.

Now, to see her this way-frail and fading, it twists something in him.

"Even now that i have power I am still unable to do anything to save her,"

He thinks bitterly as his jaw tightens.

"I swore to protect what's left of my family… and yet here you are, slipping away while I watch."

He reaches out, laying a hand gently over hers.

Her skin is cold; the warmth that soothed him is all but gone.

In that instant, a resolve hardens within him.

"Im not sure how mom but i swear i will find a way to bring you back"

A dark veil wraps around the city under the night sky.

The streets are rather bare, and the distant sounds of the city ring with the occasional honk of a car.

Akira leaves the hospital, his heart heavy at the sight of his mother in a worsening condition.

As he walks down the street, his eyes turn steely with determination.

Akira has his mother in view for the last time and then leaves the hospital, his mood grim.

He felt a dead weight in his heart with sorrow and anger pressing on it.

Meanwhile, as he walks along the city, a sense of foreboding settles on him.

His anger is in the air, and a sense of vengeance has grown keener.

Akira to himself clenching his fists

"I have to do something."

As Akira steps out of the hospital, the evening coolness brushes against his face, but it does little to dissipate the storm inside his head.

He thinks about his mother, with a fragile cast on, which then simply brings to the fore all that was taken from him.

Akira buries his hands in his pockets, his pace at a crawl as he walks.

Then, he sees HIM a face he can't never forgive.

Across the street from him, a figure lounges casually against a lamppost, not a whit of concern for Akira's stare.

A lean, mean face with eyes that glint in the dying sun, eyes Akira could never forget.

The memories come tumbling back with a force that almost sends him stumbling: the chaos, the screams, the blood-soaked walls of his home.

And the faces of the men who shattered his world.

"It's him, one of the three, one of the monsters from NIGHTFALL who killed his father and left his mother to suffer.

Akira freezes.

His entire body locks in place, as if struck by lightning.

His heart pounds in his chest, but not with fear-this is something else.

Something darker.

His breathing slows, then deepens, and a tremor runs through him as his fists curl so tightly that his knuckles whiten.

"Not now not here"

He does not want to break down, does not want to lose control.

But it's too late.

The sight of that man is like lighting a match to a volatile storm.

Something stirs deep inside him, clawing to the surface for air.

No, it's not stirring-it's being born.

A presence, a force, a pure unrelenting malice erupts from the very core of his being.

It is as if his shadow stretches unnaturally across the pavement, twisting like a living thing, while his aura grows thick and stifling.

Akira's face twists, his mask breaking, stoic and impassive, to give way to something feral, something terrifying.

His lips are pulled back, revealing clenched teeth in a feral snarl, while his usually calm black eyes have been sucked of color to turn a blinding furious white.

It isn't just his expression that has changed-he himself has changed.

The air around him thickens, becoming muggy.

People in the street suddenly seem to find themselves crossing the street to avoid him.

Akira takes one step forward as if the ground beneath his feet will start shaking.

The corners of his eyes dimmed, and he dove into a tunnel-like vision onto the man across the street.

"It's you"

He growled low and guttural, dripping with venom. 

The man, completely ignorant of the predator stalking him, chuckles along at something on his phone.

The laugh, casual and free, scrapes Akira's ears like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"How dare he be laughing?"

"How dare he exist?"

"Do you remember?"

Akira whispers to himself, his voice trembling with rage.

"Do you remember the house you left in ruins?

"The family you tore apart?"

His breath hitches, and for a moment, his lips curl into something resembling a smile—but it's not a smile of amusement. It's a promise of violence.

He takes another step forward, and this time, his aura flares uncontrollably, a ripple of white energy radiating from him.

People nearby glance over, some stopping in their tracks, their instincts screaming at them to run.

Akira's thoughts race, but one feeling dominates all others: vengeance.

He doesn't care where this is or who's watching.

All that matters is making this man pay.