Breaking news!
33 years old, Belamore Azazel faced justice through lethal injection! Once a renowned scientist, he had been accused of leading a notorious organization behind an unauthorized high-level project later identified as Project Ediru.
This initiative was said to pose a catastrophic threat to global safety, prompting coalition officials to label it a "weapon of mass distraction."
In addition to these grave charges, he was also implicated in rebellion and assassination, though the precise technical details remained sealed under emergency protocol.
"Facing death, Belamore didn't plead. He spoke. Calmly. Boldly. His final words were broadcast to every corner of the Coalition:"
"Chances and equality is being deprive to the people below the hierarchy, defying the law is the only thing to do in order for the people above hear the voices of the minority, and that's the sad reality!."
As the speaker's voice faded into the static of the broadcast, a girl perched on the campus rooftop looked up from her phone. "A weapon of mass destruction?" she pondered aloud, flanked by two other students.
"It's terrifying to think that people like him actually exist! It feels like something out of a drama-are they real-life demons or something?" another girl chimed in, her voice laced with unease.
"You know, there are ancient beliefs that fallen angels were cast out of the heavens and have been secretly mingling with humans for thousands of years. They say their descendants are still among us today," a boy interjected.
"What are you saying, Lax? Don't scare us like that!" the first girl replied, a mix of awe and alarm in her tone.
"Think about it! Those with… dead eyes!" Lax exclaimed, his face contorting into a creepy expression that sent shivers down the girls' spines.
"Stop it!" one of the girls snapped, anger and fear flickering in her eyes.
"There are people who seem completely emotionless-eyes as dark as a bottomless void-lacking any spark of life. They reveal nothing of the soul that might be hidden behind them…" Lax continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"They say those who possess such eyes inherit the darkness of their ancestors, as if they were born evil!"
"That sounds so creepy! How can you even tell if someone has dead eyes?" one girl asked, her curiosity piqued despite her fear.
"Trust me, you'll know when you see them. But for now, you two should stick with me so I can protect you," Lax said with a grin as he draped his arms around their shoulders.
Suddenly, a chill swept across the rooftop, making the air feel colder than moments before.
---
In a penitentiary, A man walked toward the execution chamber, his footsteps echoing through the stifling, desolate hallway. The chains clinked with each step a haunting melody foreshadowing his fate.
Yet, despite the gravity of the moment, a faint smile lingered on his lips.
….
Inside the final room, the chair loomed ominously. A voice recited his sentence in a monotone, rehearsed manner:
"Belamore, you have committed crimes against the state: rebellion and the deaths of innocent lives. Do you truly understand the consequences of your actions?"
"Does your own death carry the same weight as the devastation you've wrought?"
Belamore offered no resistance as leather straps tightened around his arms. Then he spoke-not loudly, but with clarity. Each word sliced through the silence like a blade.
"What is a crime," he mused, "in a world built on injustice?"
The technicians hesitated for just a moment. No one responded.
With a teasing laugh, he continued:
"Do you really believe this world is just? They say we're all equal, that hard work and faith are enough. But it's a lie. Success belongs only to the smart and wealthy-the fortunate few. Good fortune favors the wise; failure is inevitable. Success isn't meant for everyone; this world is unfair by design."
He fixed his gaze straight ahead, eyes calm yet piercing.
"Perhaps I was born evil. Or maybe… the world simply made me this way."