(A ripple of unease stirred through the crowd. "Should we stop that?" someone whispered. Before them, a boy named Alex was the focus of brutal torment. A gang of youths relentlessly beat and taunted him until he succumbed, collapsing into unconsciousness. "He fainted," one sneered as they departed. "We can continue tomorrow."
As the shadows deepened, Alex stirred. He pushed himself up, a sigh escaping his lips. "Do they never tire of this daily ritual?" A surge of anger hardened his tone as he muttered, "I wish they would just rot somewhere." Later, under the cloak of 10 PM, Alex limped to his door, his fingers clumsy with the key. Inside, he sought refuge in the bathroom, tending to his wounds with a weary resignation. A long, hot bath offered fleeting solace, washing away the day's accumulated fatigue. Finally, he retreated to his bed, the question echoing in his mind: Where had everything gone wrong?
As he wrestled with the injustice of his torment, a consuming hatred for the world that had allowed it to fester began to swell within him. Then, with startling suddenness, his eyes turned to a void of black, the irises burning with a stark white light. A torrent of memories, alien and vivid, flooded his consciousness: a looming tower set to awaken latent talents in humanity, his own ascent to a realm of gods, and his ignominious end – betrayed and discarded by those who had once used him.
Tears streamed down Alex's face, a mixture of anguish and a chilling delight. "This time," he whispered, his voice laced with newfound resolve, "I won't be a pawn. I'll become the villain this world deserves.")