CHAPTER 27: DIABLO

Felix wasn’t always Diablo. He wasn’t born a monster. He was just a boy—a lost, neglected child who never knew love. Abused emotionally by his family, he felt the sting of rejection from a very young age. His home was cold, filled with resentment, a place where affection was a rare commodity, offered only when there was a price to pay. His mother, distant and indifferent, and his father, absent or harsh, created a void in him—a void that only grew larger as the years went by.

In school, Felix became a shadow. For eleven years, he was bullied. His classmates taunted him, ridiculed him, and left him isolated. Even the teachers, those supposed figures of authority, ignored him or participated in the bullying. Felix felt small, powerless—weak. It was in that weakness, that inability to protect himself, that a deep fear of love and human connection grew inside him. He came to hate it. Love, to him, was nothing more than a weapon—a tool for manipulation or a cruel illusion.

There was one girl, though. Samantha. She was the only person who ever gave him the faintest sense of companionship. But even that was a lie. She used him—emotionally, financially, and in ways Felix couldn’t fully understand at the time. She had a boyfriend, James, and Felix, ever the obedient fool, did what she asked. He helped her with her schoolwork, gave her money, and took care of her emotional needs while she was with James, her lover.

Felix’s heart shattered when he realized the truth. She never loved him. He was just a tool—someone to fill the space when James wasn’t there. The betrayal stung deeper than anything he had ever experienced. In his rage, Felix sought vengeance. He went to her house, a metal rod in hand, fueled by fury.

He knocked both of them out. Samantha, tied to a bed, was forced to watch as Felix, consumed by wrath, tortured her. He slapped her, punched her, kicked her relentlessly. She begged for mercy, her voice filled with desperation.

Samantha: "Felix, I’m begging you, please! You don’t have to do this!"

Felix’s response was cold, calculated. He had no mercy for her.

Felix: "Sorry, I don’t forgive. So die."

The room was filled with the sound of violence, the sickening crunch of bone. James, tied up and forced to watch, trembled in terror. He never expected Felix to become this cruel. This wasn't the boy he had known. This was something else—something monstrous.

James: "Please, stop hurting her!" His voice broke, mixing fear and anger, but his words did nothing to sway Felix.

Felix: "The wrath of me shall flow like rivers in heaven."

Felix continued until there was nothing left of Samantha but a broken, bloodied corpse. Then, in a final, brutal act, he slit James’s throat. Both of their bodies were dismembered, placed in a box, and buried deep in the ground. Felix didn’t feel satisfaction. No. He only felt rage. His heart was a furnace of hatred, burning endlessly, and he couldn’t extinguish the flames.

That night marked a turning point in Felix’s life. He had crossed a line from which there was no return. He didn’t know it yet, but that moment would mark the beginning of a psychological descent. The darkness inside him, once simmering, now roared to life. He had developed what many would recognize as antisocial personality disorder, or sociopathy. He no longer cared for others, no longer felt empathy. He was anger incarnate, a vessel of wrath.

The next day, he walked into his classroom, his eyes cold, empty—dangerous. Benford, a fellow student, stood behind him and turned around. When his gaze met Felix’s, he froze. The terror that flooded his chest was immediate, overwhelming. It wasn’t just fear of Felix’s stare—it was an unshakable dread. Benford would later recount that moment to his friends, his voice trembling.

Benford: "Felix... he’s different. That gaze, man... it’s like he was looking into my soul. I swear, I thought I was going to die just from that look."

Areon: "Some people say he looks like he smokes weed or like he could kill someone without blinking."

Felix wasn’t just a different person now—he was a predator. And it didn’t take long for that predator to find a new pack. After finishing his exams, Felix, now known as Diablo, joined a notorious gang called the Clan of Death. There, he rose through the ranks with shocking speed, earning a reputation as a ruthless killer for hire. His job was simple: hunt at night, kill his targets, and rob them of everything. He was efficient, cold, and detached.

The Clan of Death offered Felix something he had never known before: acceptance. In this group, he was finally valued, recognized for his strength. They didn’t ask for his love—they just wanted his loyalty and his skills. He was rewarded with money, respect, and, most importantly, the sense of belonging he had longed for as a child.

But despite his newfound “family,” Felix—Diablo—still felt empty. He was just as broken as before, and he knew it. The violence became routine, something he did without a second thought. But then, one night, everything changed.

Felix entered Emma’s room. She was a female member of the Clan of Death, quiet, reserved, and a stranger to him in many ways. She was on her phone when he entered. The door creaked, and her eyes met his. There was confusion in her gaze, a questioning look.

Emma: "Felix, what are you doing here?"

Felix didn’t answer. He just advanced, step by step, until he was towering over her. Emma’s heart began to race. She felt the chill of fear creep up her spine as his hands reached for her.

Before she could react, he pushed her onto the bed, pinning her beneath his weight. Emma struggled, terror flashing in her eyes.

Emma: "Felix! What are you doing?!"

Felix didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed against her, and she felt the unmistakable pressure of something hard against her thigh. Her breath caught in her throat, and she realized too late what he intended.

Emma: "No... please!"

But her pleas were in vain. Felix was no longer the boy who had once sought love—he was Diablo, and he was beyond saving.

That night was the beginning of Emma’s slow, painful spiral. She would return to her bed, haunted by the events, but unable to escape. No one believed her, for Felix always disappeared in the dead of night. But as the nights wore on, Emma began to change. She started to crave his attention, the Stockholm syndrome taking root as she found herself drawn to him. His presence, once terrifying, became something else entirely. She began to love him—Diablo, the monster who had shattered her life.

And Diablo, in turn, continued to rise. He had meetings with the Heidan family, the powerful criminal syndicate that oversaw the Clan of Death. The world he had entered was dark, unforgiving, and unrelenting. But in it, he had finally found a place where he could be himself—a place where death was as natural as breathing.

And for Diablo, that was all that mattered now.

The Relic

Felix, known by most in the criminal underworld as Diablo, had already descended into the abyss long before he encountered the relic. A child of abuse, neglect, and a life of pain, he found his identity not in the warmth of human connection but in violence, hatred, and the raw power of vengeance. His heart had been twisted into something darker, with a void that could never be filled by love or friendship.

But when he stumbled upon an ancient artifact, a relic of an old and forgotten god, his existence changed in a way that no amount of brutality could have prepared him for.

The relic was an intricately carved wolf’s pelt, the kind of item that whispered of curses, forgotten rites, and powers beyond mortal comprehension. It was said to have been imbued by a god long lost to time, its magic pulsing with an eerie, primal force. Felix, ever desperate for power, took the relic without hesitation. His mind, corrupted by years of violence, saw only the potential for strength, not realizing the irreversible transformation it would bring.

As he donned the wolf skin, a violent surge of energy coursed through his veins. The transformation was immediate. His body, already honed through years of brutal murder and the training of the Clan of Death, expanded with newfound strength. His senses sharpened, every sound, scent, and sight becoming clearer, sharper, more vivid. He could hear the beating of a heart from miles away, smell the fear in his victims before he even reached them, and see the smallest details even in the darkest of shadows.

But with the power came the curse. The wolf skin bound him to the ancient god, forcing him to shift every night into a powerful, terrifying werewolf. During the day, he was still Diablo, a man wrapped in the pain of his past. But at night, under the cursed skin, he became something else entirely—an unstoppable beast, an apex predator that hunted without mercy.

His strength became unparalleled, far beyond that of any ordinary man. He was faster, more durable, and more lethal than anyone could have imagined. He could tear through rival gang members like they were nothing more than paper, and his capacity for violence reached new, grotesque heights. Diablo was a force of nature, a man and beast fused into one terrifying entity that killed without hesitation or remorse.

However, the transformation came with its own vulnerabilities. The relic had its price. The very magic that empowered him also made him susceptible to certain weaknesses. Fire, the ancient enemy of the wolf, burned his body with a searing intensity. The poison from the god’s mark made his skin vulnerable to flames, a defense mechanism that worked in the beast's favor but became his greatest weakness when it was turned against him. Fire, whether a torch or a flame in the distance, caused him immense pain and could potentially undo the powers bestowed upon him. It was his kryptonite, and even the slightest exposure to flames could cause his transformation to falter, leaving him vulnerable.

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Despite this, Diablo embraced his new powers. The gang, now in awe of his strength, hailed him as a near-immortal force, an instrument of fear and chaos. They marveled at his efficiency in killing, his ability to neutralize anyone in his path without breaking a sweat. The Clan of Death found a new, darker idol in him, and he quickly ascended the ranks, feared by all who knew his name.

But deep down, amidst the carnage and power, Felix was still that broken boy, forever seeking meaning in a world that had shown him none. The relic, while giving him unparalleled power, also ensured that his isolation grew deeper. The more he killed, the more detached he became from the world around him. His mind teetered on the edge of madness as he struggled to reconcile the man he once was with the monster he had become.

He tried to find solace in the gang, but as his power grew, so did the distance between him and the people around him. Love, affection, or even trust were foreign concepts to Diablo, replaced only by fear, respect, and the cold satisfaction of violence. It was a hollow existence, and despite his godlike strength, Felix could not escape the gnawing emptiness that always lingered just beneath the surface.

Still, he carried on, a man cursed and gifted by an ancient force, forever bound to the darkness of the wolf's skin.

Motives

Felix, or Diablo as he was known in the criminal world, had always been a man driven by powerful, destructive forces. His motives were simple, but each one held deep roots in his twisted psyche. They were the very things that pushed him to embrace darkness, to become the ruthless, violent force he was. Money, excitement, sadism, a search for meaning, and chaos were the driving forces behind everything he did, and each served to satisfy a need he could never quite fill.

Sadism

Sadism coursed through Felix’s veins like an addictive drug. To him, pain was not just something he inflicted; it was something he savored. He thrived on the fear in his victim’s eyes, the sounds of their screams, the moments where their life hung by a thread, and he held the scissors in his hand, ready to cut it. This hunger for cruelty had been ignited during his childhood, a time when he was tortured emotionally and physically, but instead of breaking him, it formed a perverse part of his identity. It became a source of pleasure for him, the only satisfaction he could find in a world that had shown him nothing but neglect.

In his eyes, suffering was not just a punishment; it was a form of art. He would slowly carve away the humanity of his victims, enjoying the process of breaking them down—both mentally and physically. The more he inflicted, the more it felt like he was in control. Sadism became a means of asserting dominance, of feeling powerful in a world that had stripped him of his worth. It was a cycle: pain begets power, and power perpetuated his need for more pain.

Money

The allure of wealth was something Diablo understood all too well. Growing up in a broken home, Felix had never known true comfort, never been able to enjoy the luxuries that others seemed to take for granted. As he entered the criminal world, the pursuit of money became an obsession, a goal he would stop at nothing to achieve. To him, money was power. It was the currency of control, and it gave him a position of strength in a world where everyone was either trying to take from him or use him.

When he joined the Clan of Death, money flowed like water. Each job, each brutal murder, brought with it a new payout—enough to buy anything he wanted, enough to bury his past, or so he thought. However, as he acquired more wealth, he realized that it didn’t bring him the satisfaction he’d hoped for. Instead, it highlighted his emptiness, a gnawing hole that no amount of money could fill. Yet, he couldn’t stop; the hunger for wealth was engrained in him, and it had become a part of the cycle he could never escape. With every dollar, every heist, he was building an empire on a foundation of blood.

Excitement

At his core, Diablo was addicted to the rush. Life, for him, was a series of adrenaline-filled moments, and he sought out excitement in every form. He was never content to live in the shadows, merely watching others take risks or feel the thrill of danger. He needed to be at the center of it, to live in the chaos of violence, to be the one causing the devastation.

Every kill, every mission, was a hit of that excitement. The fear of his victims, the thrill of getting away with his crimes, the chaos that followed in his wake—it all fed into his need to feel alive. His senses, heightened by the relic that bound him to the ancient wolf god, made the world seem more vivid, more intense. The feeling of the hunt, the moment before the kill, the surge of power as he took a life—it was all intoxicating. Without this excitement, without the constant stream of danger and chaos, Felix felt he would fade into the shadows, insignificant and unimportant. So, he sought it, relentlessly, as a man starves for food.

Place of Meaning

Despite his sadism, his thirst for money, and his insatiable hunger for excitement, Diablo was still a man searching for something more. Beneath the surface of violence and chaos was a deeper yearning. A yearning for purpose. A place of meaning.

Felix had spent his entire life searching for a reason to exist. As a child, he was neglected, emotionally abandoned by the very people who should have cared for him. He was an outcast in school, ostracized by both peers and teachers alike, and as he grew, so did the emptiness inside him. His twisted relationships—like the one with Samantha, who used him for her own gain—only deepened the chasm inside him. He felt like a tool, a weapon, with no true purpose beyond destruction.

When he joined the Clan of Death and was given a sense of family, it filled that void, but only temporarily. The violence, the money, the power—they all felt good in the moment, but they didn’t provide him with the one thing he craved: meaning. The more he killed, the more he buried his own need for significance. The wolf skin, which made him a god in the eyes of others, did nothing to ease the loneliness or provide clarity. If anything, it made it worse, as he became further detached from his humanity.

Felix, or Diablo, knew that the road he was on was one of self-destruction. He tried to find meaning through the bloodshed, the chaos, and the fleeting bonds he made with others in the gang, but it was all hollow. He realized that no amount of power, no amount of wealth, or sadistic pleasure would ever give him the one thing he truly needed: purpose.

Chaos

If there was one thing that Diablo could always rely on, it was chaos. In chaos, he thrived. Where there was disorder, destruction, and fear, there was an opportunity for him to rise. Chaos was his playground, his canvas for creating his twisted version of art. The world around him, once a place of disappointment and pain, now became a reflection of his inner turmoil.

The Clan of Death was a perfect place for a man like Felix. A gang built on violence and disorder, it provided the chaos he sought in every aspect of his life. As he rose through its ranks, taking lives and building his power, the world around him spiraled into the very chaos he craved. It was his comfort zone. He thrived in the violence, the unpredictability, the never-ending cycle of bloodshed. It was in chaos that he was most alive, most free from the constraints of a world that never understood him.

Yet, even in the midst of all the destruction, Felix knew that chaos was a double-edged sword. It was both the source of his power and the very thing that would ultimately consume him. But for now, he embraced it, and as he did, he became a harbinger of destruction—an unstoppable force, driven by sadism, excitement, money, a search for meaning, and the unyielding chaos that defined his existence.

Complexity of Diablo: A Dual Nature

Felix, or Diablo, is a character layered with contradictions. His behavior is unpredictable, and this adds to the complexity of his personality. On the surface, he exhibits traits that people might find appealing—respectful, polite, and, at times, strangely affectionate. But beneath that mask lies a man consumed by darkness, someone who can turn violent without hesitation, even toward those he claims to care for. These contradictions are what make him so compelling yet terrifying.

STRANGE BEHAVIORS

Felix’s behavior often seemed out of place, like he was playing a role, trying to maintain some semblance of humanity despite his growing darkness. His mood swings were unpredictable, with moments of surprising tenderness immediately followed by cold, detached violence. His need for control made him more aware of his surroundings and interactions, making him seem polite or even respectful at times. But these acts were often driven by his desire to manipulate situations and people, not out of genuine kindness.

He could be calm and calculating one minute, and then, without warning, slip into a vicious rage. The stark contrast between these states made his behavior both fascinating and unnerving. At times, he would show concern for others, but it always felt like it was more for his own benefit than for the person in question. His kindness, or what appeared to be kindness, was often laced with an underlying threat, a subtle reminder that his motives could always turn dark.

RESPECTFUL AND POLITE

Despite the brutality that ran through his veins, Felix was often outwardly respectful and polite, especially when it suited him. This was particularly evident in his interactions with those in positions of power or influence, where he maintained a level of decorum. He knew that appearances were important, and in the criminal underworld, respect was something that could be manipulated to gain trust or favors.

Felix had a strange sort of charm. When he wanted something, he could play the role of the polite, considerate individual, luring people into a false sense of security. His manners weren’t born out of any real need to please others—they were tactical, a way to control the dynamics around him. His politeness wasn’t about showing respect; it was about ensuring that no one saw the monster lurking beneath the surface until it was too late.

LIKEABLE YET DANGEROUS

Felix, especially before his full transformation into Diablo, could be strangely likeable. He wasn’t the typical antagonist who was outwardly menacing at all times. There was a quiet charm about him, especially when he wasn’t in one of his violent episodes. He could be the person everyone felt comfortable around—at least for a time. This made him all the more dangerous, as it disarmed others and led them to underestimate his potential for cruelty.

What made him likeable wasn’t his ability to be kind but his understanding of people. Felix knew how to read a room, how to speak in ways that made him approachable. His charm was almost disarming, and this ability to connect with others made him a master manipulator. The people who were drawn to him often believed in the person he pretended to be, not realizing the monster that hid behind the polite exterior.

STRANGELY AFFECTIONATE WITH EMMA

Felix’s relationship with Emma was one of the more complicated aspects of his character. On the one hand, he showed a surprising level of affection toward her. It wasn’t the typical romantic affection, nor was it motivated by any real desire to be emotionally close. Instead, it was more like a twisted form of attachment. There were moments when Felix seemed to genuinely care for Emma, showing her small gestures of tenderness, but they were always laced with manipulation.

His affection for her wasn’t pure—it was more about power and control. He would give her attention or moments of tenderness, only to pull away or become cold when she needed him most. This dynamic was a reflection of Felix’s own warped views on relationships. To him, affection was just another weapon, another means to hold onto someone or make them dependent on him. Emma’s feelings for him, and her subsequent Stockholm syndrome, allowed Felix to further assert his dominance over her while also feeding into his need for control.

KIND AND EVIL AT THE SAME TIME

Perhaps the most perplexing aspect of Felix’s character is the coexistence of his kindness and evil. He wasn’t one-dimensional. There were moments when he showed a glimmer of kindness, especially to those close to him, like Emma. He would offer her comfort, and in a twisted way, he wanted her to feel safe around him. But these moments were fleeting, brief glimpses into what he might have been if life had been kinder to him.

However, these rare moments of kindness were always overshadowed by the cruelty that he could unleash at any given moment. His kindness was a façade, a way to maintain control, to soften the edges of the monster within. For Felix, kindness was a tool he wielded when it served him, but evil was the core of his existence. He reveled in violence, chaos, and destruction, and these were the driving forces behind his every action.

His ability to shift between these two extremes—kind and evil—made him unpredictable. One moment, he could offer a kind word or a comforting touch, and the next, he could be a monster, showing no mercy or remorse for his actions. This dual nature is what made Felix, or Diablo, such a captivating character. He wasn’t purely evil or purely good. He was both, a twisted blend of affection and brutality, kindness and cruelty, a walking contradiction that kept everyone around him on edge.

In the end, Felix’s complexity lies in his constant struggle between these two extremes—the man he might have been and the monster he became. His behaviors, his interactions, and his relationships with others all reflect the tension between these forces, and it is this tension that drives him forward on his destructive path.