ROOOAAAR!
The roar cracked across the night like thunder splitting heaven and earth.
The ground shook—thud, thud, thud!—as a towering demon rose from the mist. Its skin was the color of dried blood, its veins crawling with black light.
In its hands gleamed a jagged blade, forged from shadows and hatred itself, humming with a low vrrrrmmm as if it thirsted for lives yet unclaimed.
Facing the monster stood a lone man. His armor shone dully beneath the pale moon, dented and scratched, a testament to battles survived by skin and grit.
An immortal knight's plume swayed atop his helmet, though grime and dust clung to it. His hands tightened around a long spear, its silver shaft glowing faintly like a stubborn flame against the endless dark.
"Alright," the immortal knight muttered under his breath, breath misting, eyes narrowed. "Weakness. There must be a weakness. Demons of this size…" He tilted his head, circling. The demon's massive blade dragged along the stone—sssshhkk!—leaving grooves behind. "Joint gaps… under the ribs… ah, and the knee. Always the damn knee."
The demon answered his thoughts with another roar—GRAAAHHH!—a sound so heavy the air trembled. It swung the black blade in a deadly arc.
WHOOSH—CRASH! Stone exploded where the immortal knight had just stood. He darted sideways, boots grinding against gravel, cloak snapping behind him.
"You're too slow!" the immortal knight called out, grinning despite the sweat streaking down his face. His spear flicked—swish, slash!—biting into the demon's leg. Black blood hissed as it spilled, eating into the stone like acid.
The demon bellowed, stumbling for half a breath, then slammed its blade down again—BOOOM! The shockwave rattled the immortal knight's bones.
"Damn brute!" He twisted, ducked, rolled, the spear flashing like lightning. "If all you've got is swinging that oversized cleaver, you'll never—" He thrust, the spear stabbing into the beast's chest. "—touch me!"
For a moment, the demon staggered. The immortal knight's grin widened, fierce and triumphant. "This is it," he hissed, eyes blazing. He pulled his spear free and lifted it, the silver tip shining like a star. "This will be the end of you!"
He lunged—CRACK!—the spear thrust forward like a thunderbolt.
But the demon's eyes flared red. With a roar that split the night sky, it twisted its massive torso and slashed downward—
BOOOOOOM!
The immortal knight's eyes widened. His lips parted. "Shit!"
Too late. The corrupted blade howled through the air—SWOOOSH—CRASH!—and slammed into him. The black energy spread like ink across the world, swallowing light, crushing sound, ripping hope apart.
Everything turned black.
…
When sight returned, it wasn't blood, or fire, or shattered stone.
It was a plain, white ceiling with a flickering fluorescent bulb. Bzzzzt.
The immortal knight—no, the man—was sprawled on the floor, panting. His armor was gone, replaced by a pale-blue janitor uniform that smelled faintly of bleach and detergent. His hands, empty, still trembled as if clenching a spear.
KNOCK KNOCK.
The door creaked open. A man in a neatly pressed suit stepped inside, a lanyard ID bouncing against his chest. His shoes clicked sharply on the tiles, polished enough to show reflections.
"Hey, Tan Jiji," the man said with a half-smile. His voice carried that tone of someone both amused and tired. "What is it this time? A immortal knight? A hero? A king?" He chuckled and shook his head. "You're such an ass. Playing imagination games again while on shift? Well, don't tire yourself out. This is your last day anyway."
Jiji sat up slowly, cheeks reddening. He scratched his head, then grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Without my imagination, mopping the floor would drive me insane."
The manager smirked. He walked closer, holding two steaming coffee cups. "Here. This one's yours." He handed a cup over.
Jiji accepted it with both hands, nodding. "Thanks. Smells better than the mop water."
The manager chuckled, sipping his own. "So, did you find another job?"
Jiji took a sip, letting the warmth settle in his chest. He nodded. "Yeah."
The manager's shoulders loosened with a sigh. "Good. What kind?"
"Janitor assistant," Jiji said dryly, smiling at the irony.
The manager blinked, looked at him wierdly. "Again?"
Jiji knitted his brow, "What choice do I have?"
The man then laughed, shaking his head. "You really don't aim high, huh?"
Jiji snorted. "Easy for you to say…"
They chatted for a while. Small things. The weather. Annoying bosses. Life being unfair. The kind of talk two tired men shared at midnight when the building was empty.
At last, the manager stretched, preparing to leave. "Alright, man. I mean it. Don't overdo it. No need to clean every corner tonight. Your contract ended today, so let the next guy suffer all the mess."
Jiji raised his cup in salute. "Yes, boss."
The manager smirked, then slipped out the door. "Bastard, I'm not your boss," before leaving.
Jiji just shamelessly raised one of his eyebrows. And nodded.
Soon, silence fell.
Jiji looked at the floor he had been scrubbing. But instead of dirt and spilled coffee stains, he saw it again. That monstrous face. The demon's sneer. The black blade, dripping corruption. His heart clenched.
He exhaled long and low. "Pathetic."
He stood, grabbed his mop, and slung it into the bucket. His body sagged with defeat. With a final sigh, he turned off the lights and left.
…
Outside, the city buzzed. Neon lights flickered, cars honked, people moved like restless shadows. Jiji walked the sidewalk, shoulders hunched. He passed a group of men laughing, cigarettes glowing between their fingers, bottles clinking as they drank.
He stopped for a heartbeat, watching. Smoke curled into the night, laughter rang out, and for a second, jealousy stabbed him. He couldn't afford that. Not cigarettes, not drinks, not nights wasted on laughter.
"Damn it," he muttered.
He kept walking. His mind wandered. He had a degree. He had dreams. Yet here he was, thirty years old, working nine-to-five jobs that chewed him up and spat him out.
He had stocked shelves at a supermarket. He had delivered packages in the rain. He had carried bricks at a construction site. He had been a call center trainee who lasted three weeks before quitting. He had tried data encoding, only to be told he was too slow. Every job demanded his body and mind, leaving him too drained to practice, too tired to improve.
And every night, he crawled back to his small apartment. He sat on his worn-out chair, flipped open his phone, and read novels until sleep took him. That was his escape. That was his little rebellion against the grind of adult life.
But guilt gnawed at him. He had time to read, but not time to sharpen his skills. He had money for Wi-Fi, but not enough to build a career. He laughed bitterly. "If only reading webnovels counted as work."
DING!
A notification flashed.
"No data remaining."
"Shit," Jiji groaned, staring at the screen. "How am I supposed to live without my novel cliffhanger?" He pocketed his phone with a heavy sigh.
The traffic light ahead turned green. He stepped forward to cross.
Then—VRRRMMM!
Headlights. Bright. Blinding.
His eyes widened. His body froze.
HONK! HONK!
A truck roared toward him
.
"Sh—"
BOOOOOM!
The world shattered into darkness once more.