Chapter 34: Betrayal

The Machinist returned to the Tori no Ichizoku clan, eager to deliver the good news of his success in assisting Akuma. But as he approached, something felt off. Akuma, the ever-smiling god of destruction, stood still, his usual malevolent grin absent. The air was thick with an unsettling silence, an omen the Machinist could not ignore.

"Akuma, why do you look at me like that?" The Machinist asked, confusion written across his face.

Akuma remained motionless, his red eyes locked onto the Machinist with a chilling intensity that pierced his very soul. Without a word, a sharp pain erupted in the Machinist's chest. His breath hitched as he looked down in horror, his body paralyzed by the sight of Akuma’s hand emerging from his heart, dripping with his own blood. In that moment, everything became clear.

"AKUMA! WHY?! I HELPED YOU! AND NOW THIS IS WHAT I GET?!" The Machinist screamed, his voice raw with betrayal and agony.

Akuma's face remained emotionless, his eyes void of remorse. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from the Machinist's body, watching as the life drained from him with calculated indifference.

"Simple," Akuma replied, his voice as cold and final as death itself. "You're just a pawn in my game. You outlived your usefulness. Now, die."

With a swift motion, Akuma punched a hole through the Machinist’s chest, ending his life.

As the light in his eyes began to fade, the Machinist’s mind flooded with memories—fragments of his past, the pain he had buried, the things he had never understood. In his final moments, he realized one undeniable truth: he had never been loved. Not by his family, not by anyone.

"Before I was even born, my aunt didn’t tell my parents that my grandfather had tuberculosis. It would have killed them before I was born. My eldest brother left the country at fourteen, escaping the crime spree that plagued us, and at three months old, my grandfather died. I never even knew what his face looked like until 13 years later. My family was good, kind people, but they were used for their kindness for three generations. My grandmother, my dad, my mom—good people who helped others and were used and abandoned," the Machinist thought, his breath slowing, the haunting reality of his life sinking in.

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“At five years old, I suffered 11 years of bullying, both verbal and physical, in nursery and primary school. Teachers and students called me a dunce, an outcast. I was never given a chance to be anything else. My family—narcissistic, driven by their selfish needs—manipulated me, and I never stood a chance,” his thoughts continued, tumbling into the abyss.

“My eldest brother abandoned us, leaving me, my mom, dad, and sister to fend for ourselves. My middle brother was in a relationship with a married woman, using us all in the process. I watched as our family’s business crumbled, the weight of it crushing us all. I drowned my pain in food, pornography, alcohol—five addictions I thought would numb the aching emptiness,” his mind spiraled further, each memory more painful than the last.

“The failed friendships, the toxic relationships, each one more painful than the last. My first relationship was nothing more than a transaction—used for money and discarded when it was over. After that, I stopped seeking love altogether. But I was used, discarded, again and again, never given the chance to be anything but a tool.”

The Machinist’s thoughts became a torrent of regret, anger, and despair as his life drained away. His body began to feel cold, and his pulse slowed, but his mind refused to let go. He thought back to the years of torment, to the isolation, to the pain he had tried so hard to numb with his addictions. It had never worked. The loneliness, the cruelty—it had slowly eaten him alive.

“Everything I’ve done... It was never for me. I was a tool. A tool for my family, for my victims. I never got what I deserved—no love, no empathy. Just manipulation and exploitation. I was always just a tool,” the Machinist’s mind echoed as he neared the end.

“I never felt worthy... of love, of compassion. I was just... a tool.”

The weight of those final thoughts crushed him. The memories of his failed attempts to end his own life, the times he nearly overdosed, the pain of being rejected again and again—it all became too much. He had never been seen for who he was, never valued for what he could offer. To Akuma, he had been just a tool to be used, discarded when the game was over.

As the life drained from him, the Machinist’s body collapsed, tears slipping from his eyes despite the overwhelming emptiness inside. His final breath was a quiet whisper, a whisper of realization that came too late: he had been nothing more than a pawn in the hands of those who used him. In his last moments, he understood that love had always been out of reach, and now, it would never come.

And then, the world went dark.

The Machinist, broken by a lifetime of betrayal, manipulation, and pain, finally slipped into the void.