The wind over the sea was still, the bridge wrapped in a heavy fog that refused to move.
At the center of that silence, David waited, sitting on the cold steel rail with his legs crossed and eyes burning with arrogance.
His men surrounded him, pacing and glancing down the road with unease, but David only smiled—because he knew who was coming.
Moments later, the hum of a black car rolled through the mist, echoing across the abandoned stretch. It slowed, stopped, and Mirshad stepped out.
No mask. No suit. Just a man. But his silence was heavier than thunder.
David clapped slowly. "Welcome, Mirshad. I've been waiting for you." Mirshad said nothing as he walked forward. "I know why you're here. Questions. Questions about how we're alive, why we weren't erased like the rest." David chuckled as he rose to his feet. "Let me tell you something, MRD… I'm not just a man." He spread his arms wide. "I am the storm. A living devil." Still, Mirshad's eyes never left his, cold and unblinking.
David paced beside him. "Your people are gone. Your world is gone. It's just you now. You and me.
And soon, you'll join them." He leaned in close. "I'll send you to the same grave I buried them in."
Mirshad finally spoke, his voice calm and flat. "Where are they?" David raised an eyebrow. "What did you do to them?" "Careful," David smirked, "you're not in a position to demand anything." Mirshad's jaw tightened. "Don't test me." David laughed. "I'll give you your answer… once I see you bleed."
He gestured, and one of his men handed him a thick steel rod. "You erased my empire. My wealth. My name. Now feel what that costs." With a roar, he slammed the rod into Mirshad's side. Mirshad didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. David punched him, again and again. "Wow," David gasped, "you're strong. My wrist hurts."
His men grew bold, stepping forward with fists, steel, and boots, surrounding him and raining blows down. They struck. They shouted. They bled him. But Mirshad stood like a mountain under a storm—until his knees touched the ground.
David laughed wildly. "You're not a god, you're just a man playing games. Let me show you real pain!" He raised the steel again—
And then it came. A sound. A distant scream. A voice not from this world. Mirshad turned his head slowly toward the sea. Beyond the fog, a shadow moved—The Soul Slayer—watching, waiting, calling.
Something inside him broke loose. He rose slowly, the air shifting, the wind returning, the bridge moaning under the weight of what was waking.
Before they could blink, David's men were dead. Bodies dropped like broken dolls, necks twisted, eyes frozen wide—no screams, no mercy. Only David remained. He swung the steel, but it shattered against Mirshad's chest. Mirshad stepped forward once, then again, each step heavier than the last. David stumbled back, panic spreading across his face.
Mirshad's voice was low, burning. "You said you're a devil." His gaze locked like a vice. "Let me show you what one really looks like." He seized David by the head with both hands, pressing their feet into the bridge as if judgment itself had taken hold. David screamed. "No! Wait! I can give you answers!" Mirshad's eyes didn't blink. "You gave pain. Take it back." With a roar that shook the sea, he tore David's head from his body. Blood painted the bridge. The body collapsed. Silence swallowed the air.
Mirshad walked to the edge and stared into the endless ocean. And there it was—the Soul Slayer—floating in the mist, watching. Waiting. Their eyes locked, and Mirshad's voice dropped into the cold air. "I am not done."