"We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news. Authorities have confirmed multiple bombings in the area, with reports coming in of significant damage and casualties. We're getting word that at least three locations have been affected, with a fourth suspected site still under investigation. The authorities are calling it a coordinated attack. Possibly even a terrorist group."
The boy's head tilted as he pondered on why such a thing might be happening. Like most teenagers, he didn't have much experience with terrorist groups attacking his city, but he knew for certain that kind of thing was rare. Could it be that his dearest news reporter was misinformed? She had to be. How else would you explain such a ridiculous claim?
Then again, knowing his luck there was the chance he'd really open his front door and low and behold, they'd be right there with bombs strapped to their chests.
"Akuma Tiryns. One behalf of the U.S government, you are under arrest for suspicions of being a demon. If you attempt to escape, we will blow up this entire city and the blood will be on your hands."
That's what they'd say. He was sure of it. Then they'd take him to some underground lab where they'd dissect and inspect his insides for answers as to why he was so abnormally strong.
"…Oh well, ain't gonna ruin my day."
He didn't know it at the time, but those words—spoken through the lips of the same news reporter he'd always heard from—would reshape his entire destiny. Or rather, his life would begin walking on the precarious path destiny had already laid out for him.
In other words, it would in fact ruin his day.
After turning his tv off, a faint vibration was heard coming from his left.
It was his phone.
With a single glance at the screen, Akuma's eyes expanded then suddenly got serious. He even gasped, as if he were an anime character who just saw someone dodge his ultimate attack.
As dramatic as he was, what he saw was a simple text message. A plain white bubble with characters from the English alphabet and a few emojis sprinkled at the end. A normal thing for teenagers like him. But what had caught his breath wasn't the text itself, it was the messenger. Akuma could almost see her cherry blossom hair right then and there.
Her name was Alice Inari, but he chose to save her contact as "Future Wife" with a few heart emojis at the end. A cringy endeavor, but one that many teenage boys find themselves in at least once.
Two more notifications rang off as he reached for the phone.
"Um… So you know how we took that midterm the other day?"
"I have a feeling I failed. Like really bad."
"What do you think you got?"
Akuma's shoulders shuttered as he laughed. Mad laughter that made him sound like some cliché final villain. And for good reasons too. He couldn't remember anything four years ago and beyond, but so far, he hasn't once failed a single test.
"A perfect 100!" He typed back, feeling like one of those characters in anime with shiny glasses.
"Yeah right. Even you have your limits." Came back the reply.
Underneath was another message.
"Everyone is saying it's the hardest thing in the world. Even Paul and he's one of the smartest in the other class."
A part of Akuma wanted to reply with, "I'm just better than you losers" but refrained as he didn't want to show his cocky side to Alice. He'd once read somewhere that girls tend to stay away from cocky guys.
Instead, he replied with, "It's way easier to study the textbook instead of listening to the teachers. They just yap about random nonsense that just confuses you."
"The textbook?! Are you serious? …Idk, that sounds difficult. Do you know anything else?"
"…Well… I could tutor you."
The words left his lips but nothing more. He typed it out, read it slowly and made sure there were no grammatical errors. And yet, he just couldn't press send.
"Lol. Sorry, but that's the only thing that comes to mind."
Then he put his phone down. He heard it buzz but didn't bother to check the response.
A frustrating sigh escaped Akuma.
"The one person that bothers to talk to me and I can't even send a stupid text. Idiot."
The urge to take a stroll outside and maybe even grab donuts on the way ate away at him. Despite his brutish appearance and scowl look, he was the kind of guy who had an appreciation for nature. The kind of guy who believes in bad energy and chakra and other concepts that might receive skeptic looks if said aloud.
Actually, that wasn't quite accurate. He didn't so much "believe" in those things, rather they were forced onto his existence. For him, concepts such as gods, demons, goblins and dragons danced somewhere between fantasy and reality.
"Tsk. I was hoping I could enjoy a nice walk before you showed up. You aren't normally this early."
Phasing through his wall was a 10-year-old boy with pure white wings and a halo to boot. He was wearing a tattered prisoner onesie with a metal shackle wrapped around his left wrist. And his eye sockets were hallowed, as if they'd been plucked out and fed to the gallows.
"Were you bored up in heaven or something? I thought that place supposed to be a paradise. With how much time you spend down here I guess my assumptions about it must've been wrong."
"…"
The angel didn't answer. He never did. Just smiled that same mischievous smile while floating about.
Akuma sighed once more as he realized he was expecting a response from a brick wall.
"Just try to keep the pranks to a minimum today. I'm exhausted from a long week of doing nothing and would rather take the day off, please and thank you… Besides, I can just tell that today is gonna be good day."
Thinking back on it, he did have to fight a couple of delinquents in the back of an alley the other day. Though, that hardly counted as exercise.
With a twist of the front door's handle, the morning sun instantly bathed his body in its sweet and savory embrace. Akuma closed his eyes and stretched his arms, as if standing on the edge of the titanic.
"Such tranquility… I see now. Heaven is real. And this is my paradise. My reward for putting up with life kicking my ass. Not bad, not bad at–"
The words instantly died in his throat as a familiar prickle ran down his spine—the same sensation he'd learned to associate with misfortune.
As if on cue, he spotted the first figure rounding the corner. Then another. Then dozens more. Metal scraped against concrete. Muffled laughter and hushed voices formed a familiar raucous. Some had baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire. Or crowbars. Or chains and even brass knuckles. Only a few idiots had come empty-handed, apparently believing their fists would be enough.
100 delinquents. At 2:37 in the afternoon that's what stood outside his door.
Akuma had something of a reputation in this city. Because of his supernatural strength, and tendencies to get in fights, he was seen as an S-tier dungeon boss.
"Defeat him and your gang will rule the whole city."
That's what was running through their heads.
A younger guy named Bomi stood confidently at the front of the pack. He was a dropout with more tattoos than common sense.
"Long time no see, demon. I sure hope you've been well. Because not a day has gone by that I don't think about what you did to me."
Bomi took a long puff from a cheap cigarette—the brand so off-brand it had earned him his nickname, Bomi. Then he took a step closer and used Akuma's forehead as an ashtray.
"I'll admit, you got me good last time. But this time, I brought my whole gang with me."
To his rear, a grown man named Quan nervously fidgeted with a chain wrapped around his knuckles. The metal links clinked together in an unconscious morse code of anxiety. Ever since the day Akuma single handedly pummeled 5 of them at once he couldn't even hear the word demon without sweating.
Akuma stood there with a clouded expression. His fist had clenched and unclenched as if he were seriously considering fighting 100 delinquents by himself.
"You bastards… How could you ruin my beautiful scenery…"
"What was that? Speak up so I can hear clearly. Or is it that you're getting cold feet?" Bomi taunted, his face inches away from Akuma's. "Where's that usual bravado? Hm? That attitude where you think you're better than everyone else."
A few pedestrians glanced over at the commotion, immediately pulling out their phones to post it on social media. One of them hurriedly dialed the ambulance, tears raining down her eyes. She knew there was no way they could save all 100 of them.
"Tell you what. I'll call off my boys on one condition…" Bomi took several steps back as if to give Akuma space outside. "Get out here and grovel. Grovel to me and I'll let you–"
A loud crunch replaced whatever it was Bomi had planned on saying. His gang and anyone recording collectively gasped as Bomi's body spun through the air like a wind turbine. One moment he was standing in his front door, the next cut through the group like a bowling ball.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Quan, cursing under his breath, gave the signal. He was like a reluctant general sending out troops he knew wouldn't return.
To call what followed a "fight" would be like calling a supernova a "spark". Bodies flew through the air. Bones snapped like branches in winter. Blood painted the concrete as if made by Jackson Pallock.
One delinquent swung a bat at Akuma's head, but Akuma caught it one-handed, then twisted, using the momentum to drive the attacker's own weapon into his kneecap. The scream that followed was cut short as Akuma's elbow connected with the man's windpipe.
Two more rushed him from behind, desperation practically telegraphing their moves. Without looking, Akuma jumped, firing a tornado kick that sent both tumbling. Their bodies collided mid-air with a sick crack. As they fell, he grabbed one by the ankle and used them as a human flail against three others who'd been closing in.
Quan was the last one standing. The lone king on a chess board that had become a slaughterhouse. Now, cornered against an invisible wall, Quan dropped his weapon and raised his hands.
"You're not human…" His voice reflected his shaking knees and sweaty palms. "Be honest, what the hell are you?"
Akuma paused, his head tilting slightly. The gesture was almost bird-like.
"C'mon man. I've told you guys like a hundred times…" His smile sent a chill racing down Quan's spine. "…I'm God."
Akuma delivered a precise blow to the jaw that left Quan unconscious.
Throughout it all, the angel watched from above, its wings spreading wider with each delinquent who fell. Was it feeding on the violence like some weakened vampire? Drawing sustenance from pain? Or was it merely appreciating a fellow artistry of destruction? Who could say for certain.
The boy named Akuma Tiryns now stood alone among the groaning and broken bodies. He turned his gaze to the sky and his crimson eyes flared as they caught the sunlight.
"Tsk. If heaven really does exist, then the sick fucks running must be real damn bored."