The sky thundered low, angry and ancient.
And then — a ripple in the shadows.
A presence.
A figure erged, slowly, from the darkness beyond the broken world. Cloaked in robes that flowed like smoke. No face. Just a pair of burning eyes — dim and cold, like dying stars.
"You did well, Roman."
The voice slithered through the rain. It didn’t echo — it infected.
Roman turned, instinctively raising his guard. He could feel it — the unnatural pressure, the whisper of sothing far beyond human. Sothing ancient.
"Who are you?"
The voice chuckled, low and sick with satisfaction.
"The one who gave you power. Who pulled you from death’s jaws and offered you vengeance. And now... it’s ti you returned the favor."
Lightning lit the sky behind the figure. For a mont, the veil slipped.
The shadow twisted — revealing a monstrous form. A withered demon, cloaked in the decay of ages.
Its body was a ruin of battle — covered in scars from a forgotten war. Horns broken. Wings shredded. One eye gouged out. Fangs chipped. A coward who had once stood among the demon generals during the Great War between gods and demons... and ran.
He had fled, hidden himself among mortals. And there, he had discovered sothing better than war.
"I fed on them," the demon said, stepping forward. "On their fear. Their grief. Their lust. Their despair. The darker the soul, the richer the feast. And you... Roman... you were a banquet."
Roman’s fists clenched.
"You used . You pushed the world into apocalypse — just to satisfy your hunger."
The demon sneered.
"Oh, I did more than push. The nuclear war? That was . My minions lit those flas in the minds of leaders, whispered poison into ears of power. The gamma storms? My creation. Designed to twist the earth and corrupt the living. Every beast, every tree, every corpse turned monster — mine. All to bring the world to its knees... and awaken the final harvest."
Roman’s voice dropped, cold and calm.
"You made this hell."
"No, Roman," the demon hissed. "Humanity made this hell. I rely gave them a nudge."
The rain thickened, turning the ground to tar. Roman’s soul trembled. The pact. The contract.
The demon’s grin widened.
> "You were perfect. Betrayed. Broken. Consud by rage. You killed with your own hands. You devoured vengeance. You walked willingly into my grasp. And now... your soul is soaked in chaos, tainted beyond saving. The taste of a thousand years."
The demon lunged.
Roman scread as the shadow jaws closed around him — fangs of cursed light piercing his chest. He tried to fight. Tried to scream a spell, swing his blade, resist with everything left inside.
But the contract was law.
It had been signed in blood, sealed in death, and sanctified by vengeance.
He could feel his soul being pulled — unraveling, thread by thread, devoured by this ancient thing. Darkness crept in. Sight blurred. Sound vanished.
But then — a flash.
The sky cracked.
A new presence.
Holy. Pure. Ageless.
A light descended. Not warm — but absolute.
A woman, glowing in white and gold, stood between Roman and the demon. Her presence alone pushed the monster back, shrieking as smoke curled from its skin.
"W-Who are you?!" the demon snarled.
She did not answer imdiately. Instead, she turned to Roman — or what remained of him.
She saw everything.
His past. His pain. His loyalty. His sacrifices. His corruption. And his hope — small, buried, but still there.
She was Goddess Mother — a divine protector of mortal will, hidden even from the gods themselves. She had watched from afar, unable to intervene until balance itself was threatened.
Now, with the demon on the verge of ascension — she acted.
"He is not yours."
"He is bound to by blood!"
"Then I shall spill yours to free him."
In a single motion, she raised her hand.
Light ford into a blade.
And with a single strike — the demon was severed.
Its shriek shook the heavens. Its body turned to cinders. Its soul, bound by deceit and cowardice, was shattered.
Roman collapsed.
His soul flickered, scattered, then stabilized — caught in the goddess’s palm.."
Goddess Mother held Roman’s soul in her hands.
She looked deep into it — and saw everything. His childhood, his suffering, his betrayal... and yet, also the loyalty he still showed, even to those who hated him.
"You are proof that a heart, even when broken, can still shine."
She closed her eyes.
"I cannot undo all the pain... but I can offer you a new path."
She closed her eyes. Spoke a command older than creation.
"Return."
Ti shattered.
The world collapsed.
And Roman’s soul was sent spiraling — back through flas, blood, and light — to a ti before the end.
Before the war.
Before betrayal.
Before the world burned.
------------------------
Roman opened his eyes.
For a mont, everything was still. Silent. Then, his sensation returned.
He couldn’t understand it. Not yet.
He felt fresh — not just clean, but renewed, as though he had woken up after years of slumber.
There was no tallic taste of blood in his mouth, no lingering burn of ash in his throat.
The air slled clean. Crisp. Alive.
He sat up slowly, eyes scanning his surroundings. He knew this place. Every chipped corner. Every faded poster. The uneven floorboard near the foot of the bed.
His old bedroom.
Impossible.
The last thing he rembered was darkness — fire, death, the end of the world. And yet... here he was.
He stood abruptly and stumbled to the window, heart pounding.
Outside, life moved as if nothing had ever gone wrong.
Cars rolled down the street. Children played. Birds sang from trees lush with leaves. The sky stretched wide and blue, unmarred by ash or smoke.
No black rain. No zombies. No death.
He looked down at his hands, then at the old wooden table beside his bed.
His phone was there, just where he used to leave it.
"No way..." he whispered.
=====================
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