Unknown POV
. . .
Everything. It's... red.
Not just a little red.
But straight Crimson.
Dripping. Soaking. Drenched....
The sky—it's not even a sky anymore. It's a gaping wound, oozing red light like it's bleeding out.
The buildings? Ruins. Rubble. All painted in the same cursed shade—like the whole city got dunked in blood.
And the bodies.
Oh God… the bodies.
So many. Crushed. Split. Burnt.
All of them stained that same horrific, wrong red.
Even their bones look red.
What the hell…?
When did this happen?
How did I get here?
I—I don't know.
I can't remember.
Not even a second. Not even my own name.
Just gone.
My head is static. Buzzing. Empty. Like a busted TV screen that only shows snow and screams.
Why can't I remember?! Why?!
Where am I—who the hell—what the hell—
My hands.
Wait—where are my hands?
Why can't I feel them?!
Why can't I—why can't I move?!
My body's locked up like a corpse. Cold. Heavy. Dead weight.
I want to scream.
I want to scream so loud my throat tears open and the sky answers.
But—
Nothing.
Not a whisper.
"Help…" I try to say. "Please, someone—help me…"
But my mouth opens and nothing comes out.
Not even breath. Not even a gasp.
Just silence.
That kind of silence that feels alive. Like it's watching. Mocking.
I want to laugh.
I want to cry.
I want to claw my way out of this skin that doesn't belong to me.
This is insane. This is so absurd.
And yet…
I feel it.
That pressure in my chest. The ache in my head.
The sharp needle of fear threading itself through every nerve.
Above me, the sky bleeds.
Below me, the earth groans.
And the dead just stare.
All of them.
Empty sockets. Crushed faces.
Still.
Cold.
Red.
What happened to them?
Who… who did this?
Was it…
Was it… me?
Did I do this?
No. No, no, no, no, no.
That can't be right.
That can't be—
...right?
But why can't I remember anything else?
Why is the only thing I feel this crawling, suffocating, soul-shredding panic?
It's like the whole world's been torn apart by something massive. Something Big.
Something that doesn't care about life or death.
Something that chews through cities like paper and laughs.
And the worst part?
I can feel it.
That thing ...its around me....i can't move to see them...I'm scared
I feel a tear. Just one. Sliding down my cheek.
Warm. Real.
The only thing that feels remotely human anymore.
The only thing that says: You're still you.
But that's a lie.
Isn't it?
I cry.
I keep crying.
No one hears.
No one ever will.
Because I don't make a sound.
Not anymore.
"I didn't know a creature like you could cry…"
A voice.
A real voice.
Oh God, there's someone—someone's there!
I try to turn my head, to see them, but my body's still locked up like it's not mine.
Move, damn it—MOVE!
Something's wrong.
I can feel it now. My body…
It's moving—but not because I told it to.
It's like something else is dragging it along.
Then—
A deep, shuddering boom splits the air.
Like a building collapsing under its own grief.
Debris raining. Screams long dead.
And then, that voice again—low, disgusted, almost spitting it out:
"Tch… damn creature."
Creature?
W-What… what creature?
There's a creature?!
Is it near? Is it watching me?
Or—
Wait.
Was he talking about me?
No…
No, no, no, no, no—NO!
Then pain.
A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest like someone jammed a railroad spike straight through it.
My eyes are wide open feel something stingy
I look down.
Something the size of a toothpick..A shard?. Not metal. Not wood.
But a Bone.
Clean, jagged white bone. Piercing through my chest like butter.
And my chest—
It's not… it's not soft.
It's hard.
Steel-hard.
With veins. Pulsing. Like snakes under armor.
What the hell is this?!
What am I?!
I turn.
There's something shiny—glass. A skyscraper, barely still standing.
I see myself.
But not… myself.
No.
No, no.
Oh God.
Something… else.
Huge.
Colossal. Towering over buildings.
A monstrous, pale abomination—veins throbbing, too many limbs, too many mouths filled with saw-like teeth that twitch and grin.
Eyes. Too many to count.
Beating. Watching. Breathing.
And on top of it—
A face.
My face.
Warped. Twisted. But mine.
My goddamn face stitched onto this nightmare.
I stumble back—or try to—but my legs don't move.
They just quake.
My stomach turns inside out.
My mind shatters.
Oh God.
Oh fuck...
I'm it.
I did this.
I am this.
I'm the monster.
I am the goddamn calamity.
The one they were running from.
The one they died trying to stop.
Me.
I AM A MONSTER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A thunderous sound echoed—
like concrete slabs collapsing in a landslide, a deep rumble that shook the air itself.
From the heart of the wreckage, amidst shattered steel and crumbling bricks, something moved.
Something crawled out.
A shape.
A person?
No—someone that had been launched like a ragdoll by the monster.
Thrown through the air with violent, godlike force.
Four massive buildings lay destroyed in his wake—flattened, split like cardboard boxes under a monstrous weight.
But… he was still alive?
How?
How the hell was he still breathing?
As the dust began to settle, debris slid off his back in soft clinks and clatters, revealing his form.
A man—
Early twenties, maybe.
Wearing a torn sky-blue jacket with thin white stripes, the kind you'd wear on a lazy walk through the city.
Jeans—not tight, not baggy. Just lived-in, worn from time, scuffed at the knees.
His sandals were black, simple, and his steps were uneven—limping, dragging, as if every bone inside him had taken a beating.
A pale pink t-shirt clung to his body, loose and torn in too many places to count, like it had been chewed through by the wind and thrown down a mountain.
His skin was ghastly pale—sickly.
Not pale like fear. Pale like rot. Like a corpse pulled from a cold river.
There were old wounds—healed too fast and too wrong. Burns, cuts, deep gashes. The skin around them looked hardened, patchy with strange discolorations.
His hair, pitch black and short, framed his face in jagged tufts.
Bangs fell over his eyes, hiding something.
On the left, a small, pink hair clip kept his hair pinned back.
Out of place.
Childish.
Wrongly peaceful.
His face twitched. Annoyed? Furious?
It was hard to tell.
There was no softness in it. No sanity either.
He stopped.
And then, slowly, he looked up—toward it.
The creature.
No, not a creature.
Not even a monster.
An abomination.
The kind of nightmare that made other nightmares piss themselves.
The man stared, unflinching.
Not with fear.
Not even with surprise.
Just… something boiling beneath the skin.
Rage.
And if anyone were still alive to see his expression… they wouldn't know what the hell to make of it.
THE MAN'S POV:
There it is.
That thing.
That son of a bitch is still screaming—still tearing through everything like it's hungry for more.
I should feel scared.
I should be running.
But all I feel is this boiling, skin-peeling anger.
That greedy bastard…
Crying now, huh?
Hah…
Ha—haha…
That's rich.
You're crying?
After all this?
I laughed. A cracked, dry laugh that scraped out of my throat like broken glass.
"You crying now?
Like you lost something?
Like you don't know what happened?"
I know what happened.
You. Did. This.
YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT,YOU DID ALL THIS!!!!
The words burned in my chest, but my voice didn't rise.
Not yet.
My knees trembled as I forced myself up.
Every part of me screamed, but I didn't care.
I sucked in a breath through my teeth.
"...Heh… heheh… fffffuck."
I muttered under my breath, spitting rage like venom.
I reached into my jacket.
My fingers brushed against it.
The Mask.
Just a plain, white thing—
but with jagged orange-gold teeth painted on the mouth,
and two long fangs curling upward like devil horns.
It was nothing special.
And yet, it felt sacred.
I held it in my hands.
Stared into it like it would give me permission to lose control.
Then I put it on.
And the world changed.
I adjusted my hair slowly, calmly—ritualistically.
From behind the mask, my eyes…
No.
There were no eyes.
Just void.
Two bottomless, black holes where my eyes used to be.
But I could see.
Oh, I could see everything.
The color of death.
The shape of hatred.
The texture of regret.
I reached under my ribs—
felt the jagged end of a small bone—
and yanked it free.
My own rib.
Blood squirted out, coating the ground in thick red streaks.
But the wound closed as soon as it opened.
No pain.
Nothing but fury.
I stared at the sharp bone.
Still warm.
Then, without hesitation, I slashed my wrist.
Blood gushed freely.
I smeared it across the mask's surface—like war paint.
Like a curse.
The mask drank it.
Thin black tendrils slithered out from the inside—
and pierced my skull.
I flinched.
That pain…
I could feel it.
That one, I felt.
Like a drill going through the soul.
Then—
My empty sockets burned to life.
Twin flames of aquamarine erupted from within them, cold and alive.
Crackling with frozen particles that chilled the earth under my feet.
Electricity burst from the ground and danced along my skin.
It didn't hurt me.
I stood tall.
And I grinned.
"Be ready, you bastard…" I growled through clenched teeth.
Around me—bones.
Bones everywhere.
They clattered. Cracked. Climbed out from the earth.
From behind me, from under the ruins, from the broken streets.
Thousands of them.
Some shaped like men.
Some shaped like beasts.
Others… things that shouldn't exist.
And then—
Four titanic skeletons rose from the crimson mist behind me.
Tall enough to reach the clouds.
Their eyes empty.
But I could feel them waiting—waiting for my orders.
I leapt.
Landed on the back of the largest one—a mountainous beast of bones and fury.
I laughed.
A wild, unhinged, glorious scream of rage and joy and madness.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! P! LET ME FUCKING JOIN!"
I screamed.
The skeletons charged forward, smashing into the abomination like a storm of fury and bone. Even they size smaller then that Thing.
And me?
I laughed.
Because this…
This is what I always do now ....
PROLOG END