On a night when rain poured relentlessly upon the soaked streets of Theravine, the wind howled through the narrow alleys, and water gathered in puddles along the roadside.
In that heavy darkness, pierced only at times by flashes of lightning, a boy — no older than ten — was running as fast as his small legs could carry him, each step sending droplets of muddy water flying into the air.
His breath came in ragged gasps, the rain mixing with the sweat of fear on his face, as his eyes darted around with desperate anxiety — as though the shadows behind him were chasing his every turn.
Oh God… I must've fallen asleep inside the school library…! Mother must be worried sick!
His thoughts raced as he ran faster, his heart pounding violently, as if the storm itself were just a curtain hiding something far more terrifying.
Suddenly, he slipped over a large puddle and crashed to the ground. His small body hit hard; his clothes were soaked and stained with mud, and his right leg was scraped and bleeding. But he ignored the pain completely, forcing himself back onto his feet.
"There's no time to cry now… I have to get home. Fast."
The rain lashed against his head like a whip as he pressed on through the eerie darkness.
But… something was wrong.
He noticed something he had never seen before on his way home — the streetlights that usually guided him every night were all turned off. Everything was swallowed by an unnatural darkness, as if the whole city had been deliberately extinguished.
Why are all the lights out…? Did the power go out?
Fear rose inside him as he turned in circles, trying uselessly to calm himself. But the darkness loomed like a monster, devouring everything in sight.
At last, after stumbling his way through the pitch-black streets, he saw it — his house — standing at the end of the alley like a final refuge.
"I'm home…" he gasped as he stepped inside, panting. "I must've dozed off in the library by mistake."
He reached for the light switch and flicked it several times… but nothing happened.
The lights refused to turn on. The house remained drowning in suffocating darkness, broken only by the flickering lightning from outside.
"Why aren't the lights—"
His voice cut off.
There, in the dim glow of the moon filtering through the window, he saw something that made him freeze where he stood.
A pair of glowing orange eyes stared back at him from the darkness — burning like twin embers in the night.
"Mom…? Is that you?" he asked, his voice trembling, forcing himself not to look away from the figure hidden in the shadows.
No answer.
The eyes began to move — slowly, deliberately — toward him. Heavy footsteps echoed in the silence, mingling with the drip of water falling from the stranger's soaked clothes.
In the left hand… a bloodstained sword.
And in the right…
A human head.
Without hesitation, the figure threw it before the boy, plunging him into a terror he had never known.
Under the pale light of the moon, the features of the severed head became clear — those beloved features he knew so well.
"M–Mom?!"
He dropped to his knees, clutching the trembling head in his small hands, as if by touching it he could deny the truth before his eyes.
"This can't be real…! This has to be a nightmare!"
His tears mingled with the rain as a pool of blood spread across the floor. His mother's headless body lay beside it, while the killer stood motionless — watching him with cold indifference, as though savoring his despair.
"Who… are you?" the boy asked through tears, his voice hollow with shock.
The killer said nothing.
"I said… WHO ARE YOU?!!!"
He screamed with all his might and lunged forward, fury overtaking fear.
The stranger closed his eyes for a moment. And when he opened them again—
"Khhhhhh…"
A crushing force erupted from his body like a tidal wave.
The air itself grew dense and heavy; the boy felt as though the weight of the world had fallen upon him.
He collapsed to the floor — the ground beneath him cracking under the sheer pressure.
He tried to speak, to scream, but his lips barely moved.
"How pitiful…"
The killer finally spoke — his tone calm, almost bored.
The boy glared at him, his eyes burning — eerily similar to the killer's own.
Despite the pain, despite the terror, he clenched his fists with all the strength he had left, and screamed inside his mind:
I will… kill you…
But his body wouldn't respond.
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain that soaked the floor beneath him.
Why… why is this happening? What did I do? Is this because I was late? Am I dreaming?
Questions crashed through his head like relentless waves.
I only wanted to help everyone… Was that wrong?
The words he had always wanted to say to someone — vanished into the darkness of his heart.
That's right… my life… my existence here… it's all a mistake…
He stopped resisting, sinking into a despair beyond words.
The killer slowly raised his hand, a radiant light forming in his palm. Heat surged from it — scorching, hellish.
The boy stared at the growing light, unable to move, unable even to flinch.
"I don't… want to die… Mom…"
He whispered to himself, his tears falling endlessly, just like the rain on that pitch-black night.
And with the last fading spark of hope, he clutched his mother's head tightly — even as his skin burned from the searing heat of the killer's power—
"BOOOF."