Chapter 46 — The Ultimate Possession
The city slept under a heavy, silver sky. The clouds were thick, pressing down like the weight of judgment itself.
From the tallest tower of Liberty City, a single figure stood motionless — coat fluttering, eyes empty, breath calm but heavy. H.I.M had changed. Not just in strength, but in presence. The man who once fought for light now radiated a strange, shadowed calm that made the air hum around him.
The years of rage, grief, and vengeance had hollowed him into something else. Something… bound.
---
The Whisper in the Silence
It began with a whisper.
Soft. Patient. Familiar.
> The Devil: "Do you feel it now? The silence? The stillness after you've purged the world of filth?"
H.I.M stood still, his gaze fixed on the horizon where dawn had not yet dared to rise.
> H.I.M: "I feel… nothing."
The Devil: "Good. That emptiness is power. That silence is purity."
The whisper wrapped around his mind like smoke, soothing and commanding at once. He no longer flinched at the voice — it had become a rhythm in his thoughts, like a second pulse.
> The Devil: "There are still those who claim dominion over men. The ones you once called the Supreme Lords. They hide in towers, in nations, in shadows deeper than yours. They must fall."
H.I.M's eyes flickered faintly with red light — not of flame, but of inner unrest.
> H.I.M: "I destroyed the roots of evil in this city. Why seek more?"
The Devil: "Because justice cannot stop halfway. You have carried it too long to drop it now. The Lords mock the balance you tried to create. They enslave the weak in silence while the world praises them as saviors."
The words slid deep into his heart, planting seeds that grew like vines. He wanted to resist. But part of him — the part that still burned from loss — agreed.
> H.I.M: "Then I'll end them. All of them."
> The Devil: "Ah… that's my vessel."
---
The Dark March
For the first time in years, the world trembled again — not from war, but from the presence of a single being moving across it.
From the slums of Liberty City to the marble palaces of Aredon, to the golden streets of the Eastern Federation — whispers spread:
He is coming.
No ships. No armies. No warnings.
Only the sound of heavy wind before the skies dimmed.
The Supreme Lords — those who once ruled in shadow, controlling politics, finance, and nations — began vanishing one by one. No battlefields. No flames. Just silence.
A meeting of their remaining council gathered in secret — deep underground beneath the world's richest capital.
Holograms flickered around a circular table, faces masked by digital veils.
> Lord Seraph: "Our systems have fallen in every region. Someone is dismantling our control structure."
Lord Nyx: "Not someone. It's him."
Lord Helgar: "Impossible. He disappeared three years ago!"
And then the lights flickered.
The screens turned to static.
The sound of a low, echoing wind filled the chamber.
A voice — calm, heavy, and cold — filled the room.
> H.I.M: "You built your empires on bones and ashes. I came to balance the weight."
The holograms flickered once more — then went out entirely. When the guards entered minutes later, the room was empty. Only a faint mark, shaped like a single ring of light, remained on the steel floor.
---
The World Holds Its Breath
Across the continents, the effects were immediate.
Governments, once puppeteered by the hidden lords, suddenly acted freely.
Wars halted mid-plan.
Markets reset.
And the news channels filled with confusion.
> "A wave of global resignations among major leaders."
"Unidentified events reported in multiple world capitals."
"Citizens claiming to see a 'shadowed figure' appearing in the clouds before the lights went out."
The people rejoiced at first, believing that corruption had finally fallen.
But in the silence that followed, there was unease. The world felt lighter — yet emptier. As if the moral compass had been shattered, and all direction lost.
---
The Mirror of the Soul
H.I.M stood before a vast mirror inside a ruined cathedral on the outskirts of the old city.
The moonlight pierced through broken glass windows, illuminating dust and silence.
He removed his gloves, revealing his hands — still human, but faintly marked by thin, dark veins of shadow crawling across his skin.
He stared at his reflection. The face looking back wasn't monstrous, but it wasn't his own anymore either.
> H.I.M: "I've done what you asked. The Lords are gone. The world is clean."
The Devil: "Clean?"
The voice chuckled softly.
> The Devil: "You misunderstand, my vessel. There will always be another Lord. Another evil. You cannot stop until there is nothing left to stain the earth."
He slammed his fist into the mirror. Cracks spread like lightning, fragmenting his reflection into countless versions of himself.
Each one whispered something different.
"You're doing good."
"You're lost."
"You're saving them."
"You're destroying yourself."
He stumbled back, clutching his head. The world swayed — the air grew thick with whispers. The devil's presence pressed closer, not as a shadow, but as a weight in his chest.
> The Devil: "You are no longer man nor myth. You are judgment itself. You will not rest. You will not stop. You are… mine."
H.I.M fell to his knees as the air pulsed around him.
The light from the moon dimmed. His breath came heavy, but his voice was steady.
> H.I.M: "No… I'm still me."
The Devil: "Then prove it. Stop me."
But he couldn't. The moment he reached inside, the shadows reached back — gripping, twisting, consuming.
---
The Birth of the Abyss
Outside, the skies darkened unnaturally. The clouds spiraled above the city like an unseen storm. People paused in the streets, staring upward. The winds roared, pulling paper and dust through the air.
At the center of it all — H.I.M stood, eyes glowing faintly, coat billowing like wings of shadow.
The devil's voice was no longer a whisper. It was a symphony, echoing from every direction.
> The Devil: "See them, my vessel — every heart, every sin, every cry for justice that was never answered. Feel it. Feel their pain. Feed on it."
And he did. Every injustice, every broken vow, every act of cruelty that went unpunished — they all poured into him like waves of black smoke.
Not as gore, but as emotion — heavy, sharp, endless.
The storm peaked. Lightning flashed — not red, not gold, but white.
When it faded, the city stood silent once more.
And H.I.M — now changed beyond recognition — opened his eyes.
They were calm. Too calm.
As though nothing in the world could stir him anymore.
He whispered, softly:
> "It's quiet now."
---
The Devil's Control
He wandered through the outskirts of nations, through deserts and ruins, through cities that had fallen asleep under peace that felt like mourning.
Everywhere he went, people bowed in fear or awe.
They called him The Silent One.
Others called him The Last Judgment.
But inside, he was slipping further away.
The devil no longer needed to speak in words. Their minds were entwined — thought for thought, breath for breath.
When he looked into a mirror, he no longer saw himself — only a faint red glow where his pupils used to be.
When he walked, shadows bent slightly toward him, like trees leaning toward sunlight.
He could sense every breath in the city, every flicker of fear, every heartbeat of deceit. It wasn't power anymore — it was possession.
He had become both weapon and wielder.
---
The Edge of Control
And yet… in the smallest corner of his fading consciousness, something still flickered.
A memory.
A voice.
It wasn't the devil's.
It was Jack's.
> Jack (memory): "No matter what happens, you'll always have the choice to stop."
H.I.M paused mid-step. The world seemed to freeze around him.
The devil's voice hissed like a storm through his veins.
> The Devil: "Ignore it. The dead are gone."
H.I.M: "Then why can I still hear them?"
The wind picked up. The shadowed aura around him flickered — unstable for the first time.
He fell to one knee, gripping his chest.
> The Devil: "You cannot fight me now. You are me."
H.I.M: "Maybe… but I still remember what I fought for."
For a brief moment, light flickered in his eyes. It didn't destroy the darkness — it simply coexisted with it.
That was enough to make the devil recoil slightly, unseen but furious.
---
The World After the Storm
Days passed. Weeks, maybe months — time lost meaning.
The world had entered a strange era. Crime had nearly vanished.
But so had joy.
People lived orderly lives — almost too orderly.
There were no wars, no chaos, no uprisings. But there were no festivals either. No laughter.
It was as if the world itself had become afraid to move under his watchful silence.
And somewhere far away, in the quiet mountains, John Stellman opened his eyes from meditation.
He felt it — the ripple in the air, the imbalance between light and dark.
> John: "So… it's happened."
Rinpo (the monk): "Yes. The one you seek has become what he feared most."
John: "Then it's time."
He rose, took his sword, and began his descent once more — toward the cities where the shadow now ruled.
---
The Last Scene
H.I.M stood on a cliff overlooking a sleeping world. The moonlight painted the sea in silver streaks. His coat fluttered, his eyes reflecting the horizon.
The devil's voice spoke softly, almost tenderly.
> The Devil: "You see? You've done what no army, no god, no mortal could. You've brought peace — perfect, still, eternal."
H.I.M's voice was calm.
> H.I.M: "Peace without freedom is not peace."
The Devil: "And freedom without order is chaos."
H.I.M: "Then maybe… the world needs something in between."
For the first time, the devil was silent.
He closed his eyes. The wind blew through his hair. The line between him and the darkness blurred further, but not completely.
Because somewhere, deep inside the man known as H.I.M — there still remained a spark, waiting.
Waiting for the day it would either reignite… or be extinguished forever.
---
End of Chapter 46 — "The Ultimate Possession"
A chapter of silence, control, and the thin line between vengeance and virtue — as H.I.M, now the vessel of darkness, begins to test the limits of his own soul.