The city was drowned in darkness. A thin veil of fog snaked its way between the buildings, and the rain shimmered on the rooftops like thousands of glass blades, catching the dim light and scattering it into the shadows. In one of the narrow alleys, under a flickering streetlamp swaying in the wind, stood a solitary figure. Tall, imposing, with eyes glowing a deep crimson—eyes filled with something indescribable, something wrapped in mystery, something that planted terror directly into the hearts of anyone who dared to look at him.
His name was Servian. He was no ordinary killer. He was chaos incarnate. Every step he took was deliberate, every breath a calculated rhythm, as if he were playing a symphony of death. His presence alone could unsettle minds, tear at the fabric of sanity, and drive any rational human being toward madness.
Across the alley, in a long-abandoned warehouse, a small family huddled in a dark corner. Their eyes were wide with terror, hands trembling uncontrollably, their bodies tense with the unspoken certainty that death had already arrived.
The father, voice trembling: "Who… who are you? What… what do you want from us?"
Servian's lips curved into a cold, merciless smile, his hand motionless by his side: "I'm not here to ask for anything… I'm here to show you the truth."
The mother tried to muster a shred of courage: "Please… don't hurt us!" Tears streamed down her face, catching the faint light from the hanging bulbs and scattering tiny sparks of hope into the gloom.
Servian took a single step forward. That was all it took. Time seemed to freeze. The father's heart skipped a beat; the mother's breath caught in her throat. There was something in his gaze, something that made the world vanish until only he remained—a predator among prey.
The father whispered, almost pleading: "Why? Why are you doing this?"
Servian's voice was calm, like a midnight wind brushing against gravestones: "Because this is who I am. This is my nature… the only truth I have ever known."
At that moment, words lost their meaning. Options vanished. Escape was no longer possible.
Suddenly, he moved. Faster than any eye could follow, faster than thought itself. His fingers brushed against the hilt of a knife in his coat pocket. The next instant, the mother's scream was abruptly cut off. The father struggled, but every move he made was anticipated, every breath calculated. Everything was part of a game he had mastered—a cruel chess match of terror.
The little girl began screaming, but Servian's eyes were locked onto her. She could not escape the dark grip surrounding her, could not flee the shadow that swallowed all hope.
"Mommy!" her cry sliced through the night like a blade.
Servian smiled wickedly, devoid of any mercy. "There will be no Mommy anymore… no one stays."
Then he paused. It was not hesitation—it was a dark contemplation, savoring the fear he had sown, the terror that ruled the tiny hearts before him. The entire scene had unfolded exactly as he intended.
He began to torture the father in front of his children. The more they cried, the more he inflicted pain.
"Keep screaming," he said with delight. "I love that sound."
He sliced the father's fingers, tore at his flesh while the children watched in frozen horror. When they finally stopped crying, understanding the hopelessness of their situation, Servian looked at them, his expression as cold as ice, a predator who had paused the world for his amusement.
"Did you stop?" he asked, voice dripping with mockery.
In a lightning-fast movement, his hand shot out, stabbing the father in the throat. The boys' cries erupted again, and a manic grin spread across Servian's face.
"This is better," he said, laughing wildly.
And then—chaos collided with justice.
The back door of the warehouse slammed open. A police officer stormed in, her boots splashing through the puddles, gun drawn and ready. Her eyes were focused, her heart racing, yet an iron resolve steadied her hands.
"Stop! I've got you now!" she shouted.
Servian looked at her with cold indifference, a sinister smile curling his lips. "Do you think you can stop me?"
The officer froze, staring at a scene that seemed to defy even hell itself. "Oh my… you? What… what are you?" she screamed.
Stepping forward, she steadied her gun. "I don't want to kill you… not because I care for you. No, people like you don't deserve death."
Tears shimmered in her eyes. "Why did you become like this… Servian?"
Servian's voice was ice in her veins: "Because this is who I am. I cannot change… I cannot be anyone else."
She looked at him, face twisted in disbelief and heartbreak. "Oh… all this time, you were deceiving me? I trusted you, and you… it doesn't matter anymore."
He paused, then advanced slowly.
"Don't move!" she yelled, raising her weapon.
Servian's eyes glinted with mockery, a cruel smirk on his lips. He sprinted at her, knife in hand, and—
Boom!
The officer fired a shot. The bullet struck Servian's chest. He fell, but it was a feigned collapse, as if the bullet had dealt him mortal damage.
The officer whispered, grief-stricken, "It didn't have to end like this…"
Servian smiled inwardly. Oh, how I love human emotion.
Suddenly, he lunged again. She stumbled and fell, but fired another shot, this time hitting his shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, but he didn't stop. Every drop of blood fueled him, every pang of pain stoked his hunger for chaos and slaughter.
"Farewell…" he whispered, voice calm but lethal.
Then—a truck slammed into him. Metal screeched, agony tore through him, and darkness swallowed everything.
For a moment, there was nothing but void. Then something new emerged. The world had shifted. There was no pain, no blood, no fear. Only absolute silence.
Servian awoke—but not in his old body. He was a small child in a new world. Before him stood a woman, holding him gently.
"Oh, look, my dear, how beautiful our son is," she cooed.
"Yes, my love, he is perfect," another voice replied softly.
"Your name will be…"
They suddenly lost consciousness for a brief second, unnoticed, but Servian perceived it all in his mind:
(What… just happened?)
Then the mother said, softly: "Your name will be Servian."
He thought, confused: (Born again? With my old name? What is happening… and what was that moment just before?)
He did not understand what had occurred, but one thing was certain: in this new world, the true horrors had not yet been revealed.