When every door closes…When the people you trust most twist the knife deepest…When the world you once held dear turns into a prison…What's left?
For him, nothing. No hope. No light. No love.Just silence. And the end.
They call taking your own life selfish. Maybe. But they never taste the kind of pain that drives a soul to the edge—the daily crush of betrayal, the familiar faces gone cold, the moment you realize you were only a rung on someone else's ladder.
His parents—who raised him on hollow promises.His brother—who smiled while mapping out the cutoff.His wife—who whispered devotion in his ear while lying in another man's arms.Even his colleagues—who praised him in meetings, stole his work behind closed doors, then tossed him aside like a dulled blade.
So he chose to end it.One rope. One moment.One final breath.
But death doesn't always bring peace.
Something ancient stirred as his life slipped away. Not mercy, not release—hatred. Thick, heavy, unnatural. The kind that seeps into the marrow of the world; the kind that hungers for more than justice.
And hatred answered.
They thought he was just a man. He wasn't—not entirely.He was the last descendant of a bloodline bound to a promise older than crowns and scriptures.
Long ago—before gods carried names, before devils wore faces—there lived a being. A devil, if the word still matters. He fell in love with a mortal woman, and for her he did the unthinkable: he walked among men. He laughed. He loved. He lived.
But time is merciless to mortals. She grew old, she faded, she left him stranded in a world never meant for him. Grief calcified into bitterness, bitterness into rage, and rage into a hunger for annihilation.
He would have ended humanity—every last heartbeat—until he saw her again.
Not truly her, but a girl who bore her eyes, her laugh, her soul's echo.
He made her a promise—one carved into the very fabric of fate:"As long as your blood walks this earth, I will keep my wrath chained."
Now the bloodline is broken.The man who ended his life was the final thread.The promise is broken—by fate, not by the devil.
And the devil remembers.
He returns—not as savior, not as monster, but as something far worse:justice sculpted from hatred, a guardian not of a family's survival, but of its ruin.
What happens next?
No one knows.But one truth stands:
He is not coming to forgive.He is coming to finish what grief once began.