"I had already made up my mind. I sat for a while, thinking about how I was going to do it. I told myself, the bastard is taller and stronger — he'll overpower me. I'm damn sure he'll kill me. But in the end, I whispered to myself, I have to do what I must.
Luckily, both my clothes and my sister's clothes were always packed away in our boxes. I didn't need to worry about baggage. I thought of waking her up, but no — I needed to finish this before she opened her eyes.
I already knew the bastard's routine. He spent thirty minutes in the bathroom. That gave me time to choose the murder weapon. When I heard the bathroom door close, I knew it was time.
I stood at the entrance of his room, waiting. My heart was racing, my thoughts charging wildly in my head."
"His footsteps edged closer to the door. Strangely, I was getting calmer. As he twitched the doorknob from the other side, everything seemed to slow down. The hinges creaked bit by bit until the door finally opened.
He walked out, his steps heavy and slow. I closed my eyes and exhaled sharply, then raised the knife in my right hand.
The blade came down fast. He saw it too late—his face twisted into a grotesque mask of shock as he raised his arm to block. The steel tore his skin, and blood gushed out, splattering across the floor. Suddenly, the scenery snapped back into speed.
"Ahhhhhh! My arm, you piece of shit!" Hogan roared.
I saw my chance to strike again, but he was stronger. He dodged, grabbed my arm, and drove his fist into me. Pain exploded across my face, and the knife slipped from my hand. He snatched my neck with one hand and slammed me to the floor, choking me hard.
Blood poured from the wound in his left arm as he pressed down. "You worthless brat! You dare try to kill me? Eating my food, living in my house, and now this? I'll kill you first!" His grip tightened.
I fought to breathe, words forcing their way out between gasps. "You… did nothing… you've only… been a curse… in our lives…" My voice rasped, barely audible.
Summoning what strength I had, I drove my knee into his groin. He grunted in pain, loosening his grip just enough. I clawed toward the knife, my fingers brushing its handle. I grabbed it and swung—only the blunt edge struck him, barely doing damage. He batted it aside and slammed me against the desk. The lamp crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.
Through all the shouting and chaos, my sister never stirred. But the sound of the lamp breaking jolted her awake. Dinah rushed into the room, horror in her eyes.
"Brother! Dad, get off him! You monster!"
She tried pushing Hogan away, but her small fists barely made a difference. He snarled and swung the back of his hand, striking her hard across the face. Dinah crumpled to the floor, crying out in pain.
Seeing that—it was like watching a nightmare unfold. My rage boiled over. And then… it happened.
Grey fog began seeping into the room. Thin wisps at first, then thickening, swirling around us until the air was heavy and unclear. Hogan faltered, blinking through the haze. I kicked him off, his hands slipping from my throat.
I crawled to Dinah, holding her close. She was hurt, but still breathing. Relief surged through me, but Hogan was already rising again, fury burning in his eyes. He charged at us.
I lifted my arms to block, shut my eyes tight, bracing for the impact—
But it never came.
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer pinned. I was standing in the living room.
"What… what happened? How did I…?" My voice trembled.
Dinah stared at me, wide-eyed. She didn't say a word, but the look in her eyes said everything. She knew—it was me. Somehow, I had caused this.
In the next room, Hogan's voice thundered.
"I knew it! Cursed children! You can't be mine. I'm no wizard, but your mother must have been a witch, birthing monsters that can vanish like this!"
He had no idea we were only a room away. The fog thickened, covering everything in its ghostly shroud. That was when I truly realized—I was the source. The mist, the teleportation. It was me.
It was my chance.
I crouched low, waiting. Hogan stumbled out of his room, cursing, his face twisted with rage.
"Damn brats! I can't see a thing!" He spat into the mist, his voice venomous.
I gripped a glass bowl tightly in my hands, the cold edge pressing against my palms.
"Who's there?" he barked, his tone unsteady. "You little bastards still here? Your witch of a mother passed her curse to you!"
BAAM! The bowl shattered against his skull. He slipped, falling hard to the ground.
I froze, the sharp edges still in my grip. Should I finish it? Could I?
My breath shook, but then I knelt down. My rage drowned out every doubt.
BAASH! Blood splattered across the floor. His body jerked, then went limp.
I dropped the broken bowl, my hands trembling. Quickly, I rushed back to gather what I could for myself and Dinah. We had to leave. We had to run.
But before we could take a step, the front door burst open. A chilling wind blew inside, carrying with it a presence so overwhelming it froze us in place.
A figure stepped through.
"Someone must've called the police," I thought. "They must have heard the fight…"
But this was no ordinary man. He descended like an angel, his very aura swallowing the room.
"Who walked in?" Layla's voice cut across Craig's story, snapping everyone back.
Craig's eyes darkened. His tone was steady, almost reverent. "You should already know. But it seems you won't let me hint at it."
The room fell into silence.
And then Craig spoke the words, calm and sharp.
"The Perfect Hero. The God himself."
Timothy's eyes widened. "You don't mean it…"
Craig nodded slowly, his voice like a blade.
"I mean it. It was none other than Titan."