The wind continued to howl, echoing across the empty streets as Monster soared through the air, his wings tearing at the silence like an unstoppable force. His thoughts, as jagged and erratic as his form, swirled in a frenzy of anger, hatred, and despair. The city had forgotten him—he had been gone too long, buried beneath the weight of time and the ashes of his own creation. But now, he had returned, and nothing would stand in his way.

The Black Angel’s words lingered in his mind, a fleeting annoyance. "You could be more than this." The audacity of the angel, standing there, unafraid, as though he held some kind of insight into Monster’s existence. It was a challenge—a subtle invitation to something greater, something more controlled, more calculated. But Monster had no desire for that. He was chaos. He was rage. And he was the storm that would tear this city apart.

He passed over the city’s skyline, a maze of crumbling towers and broken dreams. He had once been a king here, a terror that ruled with an iron fist, bending the will of all who dared to stand in his path. But now, all he saw were the remnants of his empire—faded graffiti, shattered windows, and empty streets. The world had moved on. The people had forgotten.

He slammed into the top of the nearest building, sending a shockwave through the structure. The glass of the windows shattered, and the walls groaned under the sudden impact. He stood there for a moment, his wings folding behind him as he surveyed the damage. His gaze swept across the city, feeling the pulse of its broken heart. The high-rise buildings, the industrial districts, the abandoned streets—they all seemed to mock him now. All the power he had once held, now reduced to rubble.

His eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his wrist, he shattered the remaining glass around him, watching as the shards rained down into the streets below. He could feel the city’s pulse beneath his feet, its hum—a mixture of fear and indifference. It was a song he knew well. It was a song he would silence.

But before he could continue, the distant rumble of engines reached his ears. His gaze snapped toward the source. A convoy of armored vehicles, rolling through the streets like a procession of ants marching toward their inevitable doom. The Black Angel’s influence was not as far-reaching as he had hoped, but there were always those who still clung to power, desperate to maintain control in a world gone mad.

Monster’s wings snapped open, and he leaped from the rooftop, gliding toward the convoy with lethal intent. The sound of his wings cutting through the air was the only warning they would get.

He hit the first vehicle with a deafening crash, his clawed hand tearing through the metal like tissue paper. The car crumpled beneath his touch, spinning out of control before crashing into the side of a building. The second vehicle didn’t fare much better, its tires shredded by the force of his impact. A spray of sparks erupted as he smashed into the vehicle, sending it careening into the concrete.

The convoy’s soldiers barely had time to react. They scrambled to draw their weapons, but they were no match for the storm that had descended upon them. Monster’s claws slashed through the air, carving through their armor as though it were nothing. One by one, the soldiers fell, their screams drowned out by the noise of the wind and the violence of the attack.

As he ripped through the convoy, Monster felt the familiar rush of power, the exhilarating surge of violence that had once been his only purpose. Each life he took was a step closer to his goal. The city would remember his name once more.

But just as the last vehicle exploded in a fiery blaze, Monster froze. A strange sensation rippled through him—a coldness, an unsettling stillness that clung to the air. He turned, his ember-like eyes scanning the horizon. Something was wrong. It was too quiet.

A shadow moved across the rooftop of a nearby building. Monster’s eyes narrowed, and his wings flared. The Black Angel.

“What do you want?” Monster growled, his voice a low rumble of fury. He had not expected the angel to follow him here, not this quickly. But it was clear that the Black Angel had anticipated his next move.

The Black Angel stepped forward, his form a silhouette against the dimming sky. “I knew you would come,” he said, his voice calm, almost smug. “Your rage is predictable, Monster. You think you can simply destroy everything in your path and call it victory.”

“I don’t need your lectures,” Monster spat. “I’ve ruled this city once. I’ll do it again. And this time, no one will stop me.”

“You misunderstand,” the Black Angel replied, his tone steady, unwavering. “It’s not about stopping you. It’s about showing you that destruction is not the only path. There’s more power in control, in patience. You could have it all, but you refuse to see it.”

Monster’s wings twitched, the words hitting him with surprising force. “Control?” he repeated, his voice tinged with disgust. “You want me to become a puppet, just like you? A pawn in your game?”

The Black Angel didn’t flinch. “Power doesn’t come from mindless chaos. It comes from knowing when to strike, when to pull back. You could be a king, Monster. A true ruler. Not just a force of destruction.”

Monster’s claws dug into the concrete beneath him, his rage rising like a tempest. “I am the storm. I don’t need control. I don’t need your philosophy. I’ll break this city into pieces and watch it burn.”

The Black Angel’s gaze remained unyielding, his eyes never leaving Monster’s. “You think that will bring you peace? You think that will make the pain go away?”

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At those words, Monster hesitated. The Black Angel’s presence, his unwavering calm, seemed to cut through the madness that had consumed him. He felt something stir deep within him, something buried beneath layers of anger and sorrow. It was a fleeting thought, a momentary doubt, but it was there. The question lingered in his mind: Could there be more?

The Black Angel didn’t wait for Monster to respond. He turned and began to walk away, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “Think on it, Monster. Destruction is a path to nowhere. Power comes from control, from purpose.”

Monster stood there, his wings flicking nervously, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. The words of the Black Angel gnawed at him, whispering in the corners of his mind, challenging his very nature.

Was he truly just a force of destruction? Or was there more to his existence, a purpose beyond the chaos?

The wind howled again, colder this time, as though the city itself was waiting for an answer.

The silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive. Monster’s claws dug deeper into the cracked concrete, his mind a battle between his own instincts and the seeds of doubt the Black Angel had planted. Could there truly be a path beyond destruction? A path that didn’t rely on the pain and suffering he had always fed on?

He shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that clung to him like shadows. No. He had no use for such fantasies. His purpose had always been clear—tear it all down, burn it all away. Chaos was his birthright, his salvation. But as he looked out over the city, the weight of his own rage felt heavier than it ever had before. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, a hollow space that no amount of destruction could ever fill.

The wind shifted, and with it, the faintest scent of decay. The Black Angel was right about one thing—the city had moved on. In his absence, it had adapted, changed, and perhaps, even thrived. The reign of terror he had once wielded was nothing more than a fading memory. But could that be enough? Could he, the High Rise Devil, accept that his time had passed?

Monster lifted his head to the sky, his eyes blazing with an intensity that matched the fury of a thousand storms. He had been forgotten, discarded, but he would not fade into nothingness. His legacy would not be one of whispers and stories. No, he would carve his name into the city once more, regardless of what the Black Angel or anyone else thought.

But even as the resolve hardened in his chest, a small part of him—the part that the Black Angel had touched, however fleetingly—whispered a warning. Power was one thing, but control, purpose… they offered something different. Something more dangerous. And yet, as much as Monster wanted to dismiss it, he could not.

The Black Angel’s words hung in the air, a quiet challenge he had not anticipated. As much as he despised the angel’s calm, controlled demeanor, Monster couldn’t shake the feeling that the Black Angel was right. There was something more to power than just destruction. But how could he abandon what had been his entire existence for something as uncertain as control?

Before he could finish his thoughts, a sudden explosion of gunfire shattered the stillness. Monster’s head snapped around, his wings snapping open in an instant as he scanned the horizon. The city had started to fight back, but it was too late. Whatever resistance they had left, it was weak, fragmented. He had already tasted their fear, their desperation.

With a growl of frustration, Monster leapt into the air, his wings cutting through the night like a blade. The winds screamed in his wake, the city below shrinking as he ascended. His mind was filled with the noise of battle, the clamor of his rage, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. But one thing was clear—he had to prove that he was still the High Rise Devil, the king of this broken kingdom.

The Black Angel’s challenge still lingered in his mind, but Monster was beyond that. For now, there was only the destruction that called to him like a primal instinct. His wings beat harder, the city below nothing more than a distant memory as he soared higher, intent on unleashing the storm once again.

As he reached the highest tower in the city, the epicenter of his former empire, he landed with a deafening crash. The concrete beneath him cracked, and the building groaned under his weight. He stood there for a moment, letting the silence envelop him. The city trembled beneath him, as though it could sense the storm that was coming.

His eyes blazed with a renewed fire as he raised his hand, claws poised to tear the world asunder. But just before he could strike, a familiar voice reached him once again, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

“You’re still here.”

Monster froze, his claws twitching. The voice was soft, calm, but unmistakably familiar. He turned slowly, his ember-like eyes narrowing as he focused on the figure standing on the rooftop behind him. It was the Black Angel, his silhouette framed by the faint light of the distant moon.

“You didn’t listen,” the Black Angel said, his voice tinged with something softer now—understanding, perhaps even sympathy. “You think this will bring you peace, but it won’t. You’re running from something, Monster. Something deeper than just destruction.”

Monster’s wings fluttered, the wind picking up around him. “You don’t know me,” he growled. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your control.”

The Black Angel’s gaze softened, and for the first time, there was no trace of mockery in his eyes—only quiet resolve. “You think your chaos will bring you freedom, but all it does is trap you. Traps you in your own rage, your own pain.”

The words stung, more than Monster cared to admit. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms as the tension in his body rose. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

The Black Angel didn’t flinch. He took a step forward, his presence unwavering. “You never needed anyone, Monster. But that doesn’t mean you have to be alone. Not anymore.”

Monster’s wings twitched, an unsettling unease creeping over him. The Black Angel’s words were dangerous, like a thread pulling at something deep within him. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was what it meant to truly be vulnerable—to confront the part of himself he had buried for so long.

The wind howled once more, carrying with it the distant sound of sirens and the faintest scent of smoke. The city was waking up to the storm, but it was too late. The destruction had already begun.

Monster spread his wings wide, his body tense and coiled like a spring ready to snap. “I’m not looking for peace,” he said, his voice cold and deadly. “I’m looking for destruction.”

The Black Angel’s gaze never wavered. “And when it’s all gone? When everything is broken? What will you have left?”

Monster’s eyes burned with the heat of a thousand fires, but there was something else there now—an uncertainty, a question. But before he could answer, the wind rose once more, louder than before, and Monster took flight.

As he soared into the night, the Black Angel watched him go, his expression unreadable. Perhaps, in time, Monster would find the answers he was searching for. But until then, the storm would continue.

And the city would burn.