Rain fell lightly over the night sky of Bouten City not heavy enough to cleanse it, only enough to make it shimmer beneath the streetlights. The glow from iron lanterns reflected off wet cobblestones, stretching shadows along narrow streets and towering stone structures. From a distance, the city looked peaceful.
Up close, it rotted.
On the rooftop of an aging building overlooking the central district, a lone figure stood beneath the rain.
"I will destroy this city."
Lucas spoke the words quietly. There was no shout, no dramatic fury in his voice only certainty. A calm vow forged not in impulse, but in something that had been decaying inside him for years.
It wasn't because he wanted to be a hero.
He had never dreamed of saving anyone. If anything, he had learned from childhood that survival meant staying invisible. Silence was safety. Obedience was protection.
He learned that lesson early.
Years ago, when he was still a boy, Lucas sat behind the wooden counter of his mother's small street kiosk. His fingers, small and careful, counted coins from that day's sales stacking them neatly as if order could somehow create security.
The bell above the kiosk door rang.
A uniformed officer stepped inside. The design of the uniform was archaic long dark coat, polished boots, brass fastenings, and a vintage-style pistol resting at his hip. In Bouten, authority dressed like a relic of the past, as if its power had existed forever and could never be questioned.
"It's short," the officer said flatly, eyeing the coins on the counter. "You were late last week, too."
Lucas's mother bowed her head, her voice trembling as she explained that business had been slow. Lucas kept counting, pretending not to hear, though every word pierced him.
The officer casually rotated the pistol in his hand, metal glinting under the dim light.
"Make it smoother next time," he said with a thin smile.
No one ever called it what it was.
It wasn't tax. It wasn't regulation. It wasn't protection.
It was extortion.
Lucas's small hand clenched beneath the counter, nails biting into his palm. But he stayed silent. He watched his mother hand over the last of their earnings money meant for rice and medicine.
That day, he learned the rule of Bouten:
Don't resist. Don't stand out. Don't become a problem.
Time moved forward.
Lucas grew older. His mother died a few years later, illness consuming her slowly an illness they could never afford to treat properly. After that, it was just him and Gabriel.
Gabriel was younger by seven years. Bright. Loud. Still foolish enough to believe the world could be kind. Lucas worked whatever jobs he could find loading freight, repairing roofs, guarding warehouses at night. He endured humiliation in silence. He swallowed anger like bitter medicine.
Everything was for Gabriel.
Lucas thought he understood how the city worked.
Until the day it decided to make an example of him.
A small store in the eastern district was found ransacked one morning glass shattered, shelves overturned, merchandise gone. Lucas had been working late nearby that night.
That was enough.
They seized him on the street before he even understood what was happening.
"He's the one."
Lucas struggled against the grip on his arms. "I wasn't there last night!"
It didn't matter.
He was dragged to the interrogation chamber a stone room that felt more like a dungeon than an office. Damp walls. No windows. A single metal lamp casting a cone of harsh light over a scarred wooden table.
He was shoved into a chair.
The door closed with a heavy thud.
Minutes passed in suffocating silence. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. Lucas kept his breathing steady.
Finally, an officer entered and took a seat across from him. His uniform was immaculate. His expression calm.
"We received a report," the officer began.
"I didn't do it."
The officer did not respond immediately. Instead, he opened a brown folder and placed a photograph on the table.
The destroyed store.
"You were seen near the area."
"That doesn't prove anything."
A pause.
Then the officer leaned slightly forward, voice lowering not threatening, not angry. Casual.
"Evidence can be arranged."
The words fell softly, but their meaning crushed the air from the room.
Another officer stepped in, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curled upward, thick and invasive.
"You pay," the second officer said, sliding a document across the table, "and this goes away."
Lucas looked at the compensation demand.
The amount was impossible.
"Where would I even get that kind of money?" His voice wasn't desperate it was incredulous.
The first officer smiled faintly.
"Or we discuss your family's safety."
Lucas's stomach dropped.
"Your little brother," the officer continued. "Gabriel, isn't it?"
They said his name like it was a number on a ledger.
In that moment, Lucas understood.
This had never been about the store. Or justice. Or proof.
This was about obedience.
"Law in this city has a price," the officer said, standing. "We expect payment tomorrow."
Lucas was released that night.
Rain began falling again as he walked home. His thoughts spun, but he clung to one fragile belief:
They were bluffing.
They wouldn't go that far.
When he opened the door to their small house, Gabriel ran toward him with a grin.
"You're late!"
Lucas forced a smile and ruffled his hair. They ate a simple dinner. Gabriel talked about school, about a classmate who tripped over his own shoes, about how he wanted to grow taller than Lucas someday.
Lucas didn't mention the threat.
He didn't want to stain the evening.
That night, the rain intensified.
Lucas woke to a faint sound.
Creeeak.
The door.
He sat up slowly. His pulse quickened. His instincts already knew what his mind refused to accept.
He rushed to Gabriel's room.
And the world stopped.
Gabriel's small body lay on the floor.
Blood pooled across the wood, dark and spreading. The metallic scent filled the air.
A single bullet wound marked his forehead.
And worse his eyes had been deliberately destroyed.
A message.
Not just punishment.
A warning.
Lucas dropped to his knees, hands trembling as he pulled Gabriel's lifeless body into his arms.
"I'm sorry…" His voice shattered.
He had chosen not to submit.
He had believed they were bluffing.
Something inside him died that night.
Not just hope.
Not just fear.
But the part of him that believed silence could protect what he loved.
Years later, Lucas now stood once more on a rooftop overlooking Bouten City.
The city still glittered beneath the rain. Still thriving. Still corrupt. Still convinced of its untouchable power.
Water streamed down his face, indistinguishable from tears he no longer shed.
He did not want redemption.
He did not seek justice.
He did not care whether the world would call him criminal, terrorist, or monster.
There was only one truth left in him.
"I will destroy this city."
And this time
he would not remain silent.