Chapter 23: The High Rise Devil vs Mike

The wind howled through the darkened skyline, a haunting prelude to the inevitable clash that loomed on the horizon. Mike stood at the edge of the rooftop, his silhouette framed by the city’s dim glow. Below, the sprawling lights of the city flickered like distant stars, oblivious to the nightmare unfolding above. Mike had once been a victim, a tool in the hands of a man who reveled in cruelty. But tonight, he was a different creature. No longer just an experiment, no longer a mere weapon—he was a man forged by pain, and tonight, vengeance would finally be his.

The night air was cold, and the tension was palpable, thick enough to suffocate anyone who dared to breathe it in. Mike’s muscles were taut, his senses on high alert, and the burning glow of his eyes cut through the darkness as he scanned the rooftop. His talons, sharp as ever, flexed with anticipation, a predator preparing for its final hunt.

But this wasn’t just any hunt. The man he sought was not some random target. The High Rise Devil had orchestrated his suffering, manipulated his life into a twisted game for his amusement. And now, Mike would make him pay.

The Arrival of the High Rise Devil

A low, chilling laugh reverberated through the silence, sending a ripple of unease through Mike's spine. From the shadows, the High Rise Devil emerged, his figure stepping out into the dim moonlight. He was everything Mike had been taught to hate—cold, calculating, and dressed in an immaculate black suit, a stark contrast to the chaos he perpetuated. His smile was one of malice, a sharp curve of mockery that twisted his already unnerving face.

“Mike,” the High Rise Devil’s voice slid through the air like poison, “you’ve come a long way from the pathetic little boy I remember. But now, you’re just another pawn in this game of ours.”

Mike’s fists clenched, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure, his talons scraping against the fabric. His muscles coiled like a spring, ready to explode. The High Rise Devil's words were venomous, but they didn’t faze him. His rage was a wildfire, uncontrollable, consuming everything in its path. This was not a game anymore. It was personal.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to my family,” Mike growled, his voice low and guttural, his breath steady despite the fury raging within him.

The High Rise Devil’s lips curled into a mocking grin. “You still think this is about your family? You’re nothing but a tool, Mike. Just like the rest of them. I created you, and I can destroy you just as easily.”

The words stung, but Mike was beyond caring. The years of torment, the lies, and the manipulations, all led him here. He had been forged in fire, and tonight, that fire would burn brighter than ever.

The First Move

Without warning, the High Rise Devil lunged forward, his speed almost a blur. His punch aimed straight for Mike’s chest, lethal and precise. But Mike was faster. With a snarl, he sidestepped the blow, his reflexes honed to perfection. In one fluid motion, he countered, his talons raking across the High Rise Devil’s arm. The contact was brutal, the sharp claws digging into flesh, drawing blood.

The High Rise Devil recoiled, his expression flickering with surprise. For a brief moment, he looked almost human, shocked by the power Mike wielded. But the moment passed, and his smirk returned, even more malicious than before.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” the High Rise Devil remarked, wiping the blood from his arm. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

Mike’s rage boiled over. He was no longer just fighting for revenge—he was fighting to prove that he was more than just an experiment. More than just a monster. He would end this nightmare tonight.

With a roar, Mike charged forward, his talons slashing the air with deadly intent. The High Rise Devil sidestepped and twirled with a fluid grace that only someone of his skill could manage, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike aimed at his throat. He was fast, too—too fast for an ordinary man.

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“Do you really think you can defeat me?” The High Rise Devil’s voice was dripping with disdain. “I’ve controlled everything from the shadows. You were just another piece on my chessboard.”

Mike’s fury surged. His body healed rapidly from the shallow cuts and bruises, his regeneration working overtime to keep him at full strength. He wasn’t just a tool anymore. He was a weapon, and the High Rise Devil would soon learn what it meant to face the fury of someone who had lost everything.

The Fight Intensifies

Mike attacked again, a blur of motion and fury, his talons aiming for the High Rise Devil’s neck. Each strike was calculated, driven by years of pain and hatred. But the High Rise Devil was just as deadly, his movements a mix of precision and agility. He ducked and rolled, narrowly evading Mike's onslaught, but the sheer force of the strikes left deep gouges in the concrete and steel around them.

The High Rise Devil retaliated, his hidden knife flashing in the low light as he slashed across Mike’s side. The blade dug deep, but Mike didn't falter. His eyes burned brighter with each passing second, and the wound healed even faster than it had been inflicted. He wasn’t going to stop—not until the High Rise Devil was nothing but a bloody heap on the ground.

“Impressive,” the High Rise Devil said, spitting blood. He wiped his lips with a sneer. “But you’re still not strong enough. I’ve killed kings, destroyed empires. What makes you think you stand a chance?”

Mike’s face twisted in a snarl, his jaw clenched in a battle between rage and reason. The High Rise Devil had underestimated him. He was no mere monster. He was a force of nature. Every strike was a step toward his final goal: the death of the man who had ruined his life.

Without warning, Mike launched himself at the High Rise Devil again. His talons flashed, cutting through the air like blades of death. The High Rise Devil slashed his knife in return, but Mike was too quick. He dodged, his powerful legs propelling him forward as he delivered a savage punch to the High Rise Devil’s abdomen. The assassin staggered back, but only for a moment before he spun, bringing the knife down in a vicious arc.

The blade scraped across Mike’s side again, the pain sharp, but Mike didn’t even flinch. His eyes glowed brighter, and his muscles tensed as he closed the distance between them. The High Rise Devil’s attacks became more desperate, more frenzied, but Mike’s relentless assault was overwhelming. A final, brutal strike with his talons sent the High Rise Devil crashing to the ground.

The Final Strike

For a moment, the rooftop fell silent. The High Rise Devil lay on the ground, his breath shallow, blood spilling from the gaping wound in his chest. His eyes widened in shock, and for the first time, he realized that he had underestimated Mike in every way.

Mike stood over him, his breath ragged, blood dripping from his wounds. His talons were slick with blood, and his heart hammered in his chest. He had fought for this moment, for this victory, but it felt hollow. The man who had caused him so much pain was finally dead, but the emptiness inside Mike remained. The war was over, but the battle within him still raged.

The High Rise Devil’s mouth moved, but no words came out. His eyes glazed over as his life drained away, the man who had manipulated and controlled for so long now nothing more than a corpse at Mike's feet. Mike had done it. He had avenged his family. He had ended the nightmare.

But as the High Rise Devil’s body fell limp, Mike’s shoulders sagged. His victory was not one of celebration. It was one of grim acceptance. The war had taken too much from him—too much of his humanity, too much of his soul.

Mike leaned down, his eyes cold as he stared into the lifeless body of his enemy. His breath slowed, each inhale a heavy reminder of the price he had paid. Blood pooled around him, a gruesome testament to the brutality of what had just transpired. His talons dug into the High Rise Devil’s throat, lifting the lifeless form with an unholy strength, the motion jerky and brutal. He smashed the body into the steel of the rooftop, over and over again, as though trying to erase the last traces of the man who had haunted his every step.

Each slam into the ground echoed like a thunderclap, his rage unchecked, each brutal blow a release of years of torment. The High Rise Devil’s body was mangled beyond recognition, a bloodied pulp beneath Mike’s fury. There was no mercy, no hesitation. The violence was a catharsis, an outlet for the pain and anger that had consumed him for so long.

When Mike finally stopped, he stood there, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as though he had just endured the longest battle of his life. His body was covered in blood—his own and his enemy’s—but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except the quiet that settled around him. The war was over, but the peace was far from coming.

As the first light of dawn began to break, Mike stared out over the city, his face impassive. His hands, still stained with blood, hung at his sides. His body ached, his wounds pulsing, but there was no satisfaction in the victory. Only emptiness. His family was avenged, but he was still lost in the world that had shaped him.

The battle on the rooftop had ended, but Mike knew the war inside him had just begun.