CHAPTER 26: DEIMOS'S SURPRISE

Deimos stepped into the dimly lit room with an air of cold authority, a figure of darkness that seemed to rise from the shadows themselves. Ray froze, his breath catching in his throat. Before him stood a being with red, satanic eyes, but no discernible face—only a pitch-black void where one should have been. The presence was suffocating, the air thick with malice, as though the room itself recoiled from Deimos’s arrival.

Ray’s heart thundered in his chest as the figure spoke, its voice echoing unnaturally, like whispers carried on a chilling wind.

“I’ve found you, child. You seem... intriguing.” Deimos’s tone was detached, almost amused. “I’ve been watching you ever since you became a professional assassin. You’ve been marked.”

“Who are you?!” Ray demanded, his voice shaky but laced with defiance.

Deimos chuckled, a deep, unsettling sound that reverberated through the walls. “I am Deimos, the God of Rape, Torture, and Murder. And I am here to show you the truth. You, boy, are nothing but a weakling—a toy. I will crush you and expose you to the justice of my philosophy. You will taste the pain my victims have felt. You will see the consequences of a world devoid of morality.”

Ray’s fists clenched. “Get out of my room, you monster!”

Deimos’s eyes flared brighter, the void of his face flickering with cruel amusement. “Oh, you think you can stand against me? Allow me to show you what true power looks like.”

Without warning, Ray lunged. A blur of motion, and his fist connected with Deimos’s eye—or where an eye would be on a human face. Despite the godlike aura surrounding him, Deimos staggered back, caught off guard. The impact sent him crashing into the wall, a guttural growl escaping him as he hit the ground.

“What the actual hell was that?!” Deimos spat, rising slowly, his movements stiff with disbelief.

Ray stood his ground, his breathing labored but his resolve unyielding. “Remember the SAAHO assassins? I trained under Maya, Kaizen, and Michael.”

Deimos’s smirk returned, though his eyes held a flicker of admiration. “Ah, so you were trained by legends. No wonder you managed to land that strike. Your speed is impressive. But don’t think that means you’re a match for me. I am an ancient spirit, tormenting sinners for eternity. Your mortal strength is insignificant.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Still, you intrigue me. What drove you to join them?”

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Ray hesitated, then answered with a steady voice. “I joined because I was neglected. My parents never cared about me—not emotionally. They were cold, distant. One day, I reached my breaking point, and I killed them. Afterward, I ended up in an orphanage. Michael found me there, and he trained me. He gave me purpose.”

Deimos’s gaze darkened, his interest sharpening. “You killed your parents... and became an antihero. A boy of only fifteen, carrying the weight of such a choice. Tell me, Ray—what was it that pushed you over the edge?”

Ray’s jaw tightened, his voice hardening. “They didn’t see me. They didn’t care. I made the choice to end it. I’ve had enough of being powerless. Justice doesn’t come from what others think is right. It comes from what I believe is right.”

For the first time, Deimos’s tone softened, laced with something almost resembling sympathy. “I understand you more than you realize, boy. I, too, loved wholeheartedly once. But that love was betrayed. The purity I believed in was torn from me. Cruelty and suffering are all the world has ever shown me. And so, I embraced them in return. Lust, greed, wrath—these became my truth. Lust for power, greed for control, and wrath against the world that wronged me.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed, his stance unyielding but his curiosity piqued. “You’re saying you were a victim too?”

Deimos’s smile twisted into something darker. “I wasn’t just a victim—I was shaped by cruelty. My suffering built me. I sought vengeance against those who betrayed me. Power became my salvation, money and status my weapons. And through that, I transcended humanity. I became this.”

Ray stared at him, his hands loosening slightly at his sides. He had expected a monster, but instead, he saw a reflection—a glimpse of what he could become if he allowed the darkness inside him to take root.

“So, that’s your justification?” Ray asked, stepping closer. “The world was cruel to you, so you became cruel in return?”

Deimos’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “Yes. That is the truth. I am not here to save you, Ray. I’m here to reveal the truth. In this world, only the strongest survive. Only the ruthless thrive. You have the potential to rise above the rest, to embrace this truth and become something greater. But you must choose—embrace reality or live in denial.”

Ray’s heart wavered as he weighed Deimos’s words. The darkness the god offered was seductive, a promise of power and clarity in a chaotic world. But Ray had chosen his path—a path forged not from hatred but from a desire to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“I won’t become like you,” Ray said finally, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

Deimos’s grin widened, dark and knowing. “We’ll see, Ray. The world has a way of breaking even the strongest wills. When that time comes, I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, Deimos dissolved into the shadows, leaving Ray alone with his thoughts. The room felt colder, emptier, but the weight of the encounter lingered. Ray stared into the void where Deimos had stood, his fists trembling.

He had won this round, but Deimos’s words clung to him like a shadow. The god wasn’t just a monster—he was a mirror, reflecting the worst possibilities of what Ray could become.

Ray took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. He had chosen his path, and no matter the temptation, no matter the darkness, he wouldn’t stray. But in the quiet of the room, one thought lingered in his mind:

What if he’s right?