After finishing my work at the orphanage, I wandered the streets aimlessly.

I could feel the weight of a world that seemed to have no place for me.

The city around me was harsh and unforgiving, its cold streets echoing my own emptiness.

Survival was my only creed.

And I embraced it with a fierce desperation.

I stole food whenever hunger gnawed at my insides, slipping through market stalls and back alleys like a shadow.

I swiped clothes to shield myself from the biting cold, the thin fabrics offering little comfort but enough to keep the frost at bay.

And in the darkest corners of my existence, I committed crimes that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Each act a testament to the lengths I would have to go in order to survive.

However, no matter the crime, I always managed to escape.

My powers provided a cloak of invisibility, a shield against the relentless pursuit of those Nexus officers.

It was as if I was a ghost, drifting through the city's veins, unseen and untouchable.

Yet, despite my elusive nature, I was adrift—a soul without direction.

I had no goal or purpose to anchor me.

My life was a series of desperate acts, each one more hollow and meaningless than the last.

The streets were my battlefield, and every day was a fight for survival, devoid of hope or a future.

The people I encountered were mere shadows in my peripheral vision, faceless figures in a world that felt increasingly detached and surreal.

I was a lone wanderer, lost in a sea of concrete and indifference.

Then, one day, everything changed.

Amid the blur of my aimless existence, I stumbled upon a piece of news that would alter the course of my life.

It was an article about a company, its successes and its influential owner splashed across the headlines.

As I read further, a chilling recognition settled over me.

The owner of that company was someone I knew very well.

Someone whose face was etched into the darkest recesses of my memory.

In that moment, a spark ignited within me—a burning sense of purpose that I had never felt before.

My aimless wandering suddenly had direction.

I had found my goal, my reason to move forward.

This man, this owner, would become my next target.

My hands trembled with a mixture of excitement and resolve as I envisioned the path ahead.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Determined, I made my way to his house.

The grand villa stood as a stark reminder of his success, its imposing structure a symbol of everything I had been denied.

When I arrived, the house felt cold and unwelcoming, a far cry from the warmth it must have once held.

I decided to wait, a sense of anticipation mingling with the simmering anger inside me.

Hours passed, and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pristine lawn.

Night fell, and the house was illuminated, its grandeur on full display.

Each light that flickered on felt like a beacon, drawing me closer to my target.

Finally, I heard the sound of a car pulling up.

My heart pounded in my chest as I sensed the changes in the surroundings.

Every fiber of my being tense with anticipation.

He entered the villa, looking as composed and confident as ever.

The sight of him, so calm and untroubled, filled me with a mix of rage and determination.

This was one of the man who had shaped my suffering.

The one who had haunted my nights and poisoned my days.

Now, he was within reach.

With a deep breath, I stepped forward to greet him.

The madness clung to me like an old friend, masking the turmoil that roiled within.

As I approached, the distant echoes of my past seemed to converge on this moment.

Each step heavy with the weight of what was to come.

"Nice to meet you again, uncle," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside.

His eyes met mine, a flicker of confusion passing over his features.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to place a distant memory.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and curiosity.

A rush of emotions surged through me—anger, sadness, and a bitter sense of betrayal.

"You don't remember me?"

I asked, my voice barely concealing the hurt.

His eyes narrowed as he studied me closer, but there was no recognition in his gaze.

It was as if I was a stranger standing before him.

For a moment, I wondered if he truly had forgotten me, or if he was just pretending not to know.

Did he forget about me?

Or was he just acting?

I questioned silently, my mind racing.

Then it hit me—ten years.

It had been ten long years since we last met.

My appearance had changed, hardened by the years of struggle and survival.

"Oh yeah, it has been ten years since we last met. You must've forgotten about me," I said, my voice carrying the weight of a decade's worth of pain and bitterness.

He frowned, still searching his memory.

"Ten years is a long time," he mused, his voice distant as if he were sifting through the sands of time.

"Okay. Can you tell me a little about you and your father?" he asked as he moved towards the sofa, his curiosity mixed with impatience.

"Well, you used to be quite close to my father. Try to remember him," I said, my voice carrying the weight of our shared history.

"This detail doesn't help me. Can you tell me a little more?" he asked, controlling his expression with an effort that betrayed his growing frustration.

It was clear his patience was wearing thin.

The tension in the room was palpable, like a taut string ready to snap.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you like that. How about we play a game?"

I suggested, my voice adopting a playful tone that contrasted sharply with the seriousness of the moment.

"Look, kid, I'm a busy person and I don't have time for your games. So if you don't have any important work, get lost," he said, his voice cold and dismissive.

A surge of frustration rose within me.

He had no idea how important this was.

"And what if I don't?" I asked, stepping closer, my gaze locking onto his.

"If you don't go out on your own, then I will have to throw you out forcefully," he threatened, his tone laced with finality.

"Try it," I challenged, my voice low and unwavering.

"Guards!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the house, a mixture of authority and rising fear.

At his command, three guards burst into the room, their presence imposing, muscles taut and ready for action.

"Throw out our guest," he ordered, his gaze never leaving mine, his eyes filled with a dangerous mix of anger and apprehension.

"Okay, sir," they responded in unison, their voices calm and professional.

They moved towards me.

Their footsteps heavy on the polished floor.

One of them stretched out his hand to grab me, his grip firm and confident.

"Let's go, young man," he said, his voice steady.

But before he could touch me, I moved with a speed and precision honed by years of survival on the streets.

A knife appeared in my hand, and with a swift, fluid motion, I plunged it into his arm.

"Aaaagh!!"

The guard's scream of pain filled the room, but it was cut short as I withdrew the knife and, without hesitation, thrust it into his neck.

Blood spurted out, and he collapsed to the floor, his life extinguished in an instant.

The other two guards stood frozen, their faces pale with shock and disbelief at the brutal display before them.

The room seemed to shrink around us, the tension thickening the air.

They had expected an easy task, but now they faced a killer with nothing left to lose.

I turned to them, my eyes cold and unyielding, the bloodied knife still in my hand.

"Who's next?"

I asked, my voice calm and almost taunting, daring them to make their move.

For a moment, no one moved.

The only sound was the heavy breathing of the remaining guards and the soft gurgle of the dying man at my feet.

"What are you two doing? Catch him!"

Kevin shouted from the safety of the other side of the room, his voice tinged with desperation.

The remaining two guards had no choice but to obey.

They moved towards me, their hands outstretched, ready to subdue me.

But before they could reach me, a blue aura began to envelop their arms.

They paused mid-air, their movements arrested by an invisible force.

I looked at them, my eyes cold and unfeeling.

The guards began to scream in pain as their bones twisted and muscles ruptured under the pressure of my power.

The agony drove them to their knees, their faces contorted in torment.

Without a hint of remorse, I commanded their necks to twist.

The sickening crack of bones breaking echoed through the room as their lives were abruptly ended.

They crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

I turned my gaze to Kevin, who was frantically trying to get up from the sofa, his face a mask of terror.

"Be seated," I commanded, flicking my fingers. An unseen force shoved him back onto the sofa, his body trembling uncontrollably.

His fear was palpable, a stark contrast to the arrogance he had displayed earlier.

But this was just the beginning.

The real horror was yet to come.

"Now, shall we play a game?"

I asked, my voice dripping with a sinister edge.

Kevin's eyes widened in sheer panic as he realized the nightmare he was now part of.

This was no ordinary encounter; it was the beginning of my horrific game, one that would unravel the comfortable life he had built, piece by agonizing piece.