Chapter 44: The Attack

  The morning after the raid, the USCT campus lay in eerie silence. It had been an ordinary night at first—quiet, routine. Security was tight as always, the guards patrolling the perimeter, ensuring nothing out of the ordinary could slip by unnoticed. But now, what was left in their place told a much darker story.

  In the security checkpoint, the usual patrolling officers were nowhere to be found. Instead, a pile of ash and dust was all that remained where they once stood. No blood. No bodies. Just the remnants of their existence—reduced to nothing more than particles in the air.

  Students and staff who wandered near the area were unaware of the magnitude of what had just transpired. For some, it might have seemed like a tragic accident, a fire, or perhaps a chemical spill—until they saw it. There were no bodies, no scorch marks, no physical signs of struggle. The bodies had been erased from existence, wiped clean from the fabric of reality itself. One minute, the guards were there—manning their posts, scanning the security feeds, patrolling the hallways. And the next, they were gone, without a trace.

  It wasn’t just death they had suffered. It was something worse.

  Total annihilation.

  The way their existence was scrubbed from the world, not even a memory of their faces remained. No one could recall what the guards looked like or even their names. It was as if they had never existed in the first place. That was the power of the attacker—someone with the ability to unmake people, to make them vanish from history itself.

  And the horror didn’t stop at the security guards. As investigators dug deeper, they found similar piles of dust across other parts of the campus—officers, staff, and even a few students who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not a single body remained intact. No one had been spared.

  The more they uncovered, the clearer it became that this wasn’t a mere attack. It was an extermination—a message. The Monster, as they would later come to call him, had decided to make an example of the USCT. To make sure the world saw what he was capable of, and that no one was safe. His message was clear: No one is beyond my reach.

  With every destroyed trace of life, with every soul erased from time, he made himself more than a villain. He became an undeniable force of nature, capable of erasing anyone from existence, any time, anywhere. No security measures, no safeguards could protect anyone from him. And as news spread, panic began to set in. The remaining heroes and authorities struggled to make sense of the attack.

  Who could stand against a force so complete, so terrifying? Was there any hope left? Or had the world just stepped into a new era—one where even the strongest couldn’t escape the inevitable march of death?

  The attack wasn’t just physical. It was metaphysical. Time itself had been bent to the will of a single entity. And in the wake of his devastation, the world trembled, knowing full well that if the Monster could erase even the smallest trace of their existence, none of them were safe.

  The Assembly

  The atmosphere in the auditorium was heavy as the students and staff of USCT gathered. The mood was somber, the fear in the air palpable, and the usual sense of purpose that had once defined the institution was now replaced with an undercurrent of unease. The doors to the assembly hall creaked as they closed, locking everyone inside for the meeting. It was rare for Lifeblood to address the school directly, but the urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation.

  Lifeblood stood at the podium, his towering figure casting a shadow over the room. His usual calm, composed demeanor was replaced with a gravitas that made everyone hold their breath. His expression was a mix of frustration and concern. His powerful presence seemed to command the space, and when he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but tinged with a sense of urgency that cut through the tension in the room.

  Lifeblood: “Seems like he’s broken past the anti-catalyst barrier that kept us safe.”

  There was a collective gasp as his words sank in. The anti-catalyst barrier—the very system that had been put in place to prevent the manipulation of reality itself—had been an untouchable safeguard for the longest time. It was their final line of defense against anyone who might wish to tamper with the natural order, to erase the very essence of existence. But now, here stood Lifeblood, confirming the unthinkable: The Monster had breached it.

  Lifeblood’s gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of every student, every teacher, and every hero present. The weight of the moment settled in, like the calm before an inevitable storm.

  Lifeblood: “We knew we were dealing with a dangerous individual when we first got wind of the attacks. But now, it’s clear that this man isn’t just a threat—he’s a force of nature. A force that, until now, no one thought could ever be challenged.”

  The room remained silent, each person processing the implications of his words. The Monster—this name had quickly become synonymous with terror. Not just because of the lives he had taken, but because of how he had taken them: wiping them from existence, erasing them from memory, as though they had never been. No remnants, no records, no nothing. The very fabric of reality was at his mercy.

  Lifeblood: “What’s worse is that he’s not limited by any normal rules. His power extends beyond physical death—he can erase people from time itself. And that... that is something we never thought possible. We’ve faced many threats before, but nothing like this.”

  He paused for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking deeper. His eyes shifted to the group of students and heroes at the back of the room—the ones who had fought beside him, who had faced down dangerous foes. They had seen death and destruction, but now they were up against something else entirely.

  Lifeblood: “The anti-catalyst barrier was the one thing keeping us from being completely vulnerable. It was the shield that kept his influence at bay. But now... now it’s gone. And I fear that if we don’t act quickly, none of us will be safe.”

  The room held its breath as Lifeblood’s words echoed through the hall. The gravity of the situation was impossible to ignore. For the first time in a long time, even Lifeblood—the top hero, the embodiment of strength and resilience—seemed uncertain. The confidence that usually radiated from him had been replaced with something more human: fear.

  Lifeblood: “We’ve dealt with threats before, but nothing like this. The Monster isn’t just some villain. He’s a god. A being who can shape existence itself. And if we don’t find a way to stop him now, we could very well be looking at the end of everything.”

  The room was deathly quiet, each student and staff member reflecting on the enormity of Lifeblood’s words. The Monster wasn’t just a danger to their lives; he was a danger to the very concept of existence. They couldn’t simply fight him—they would need to understand him. Find a way to fight back against his absolute control over life, death, and time.

  Lifeblood: “We need to unite. Not just as heroes, but as people. Everyone here has a part to play. And if we don’t stand together, we’ll fall one by one. It’s time we start thinking bigger than ourselves.”

  His eyes locked with Krishna’s for a moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Krishna had been on the front lines of understanding the true nature of their enemies, and Lifeblood knew that this fight wouldn’t just require brute strength—it would take strategy, insight, and adaptability.

  Lifeblood: “The Monster thinks he’s unstoppable. Let’s show him just how wrong he is.”

  As Lifeblood’s speech came to a close, the room buzzed with a mix of anxiety and determination. They all knew the road ahead would be difficult, if not impossible. But one thing was certain: if they didn’t fight back now, they would be erased—like so many others, wiped from existence without even a trace.

  The heroes, students, and staff all exchanged glances. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It was about resisting the erasure. And they would fight until their last breath to ensure that the Monster wouldn’t win.

  The Whispering Shadow

  Leonardo sat in the quiet corner of the school courtyard, his fingers brushing the edges of his notebook as he tried to focus. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting patches of warmth across the stone benches. His thoughts should have been peaceful, but they were far from it.

  Every day, the voice came.

  A whisper, no louder than the wind, but far more destructive.

  The Monster had found a way to speak to him—not through words or physical presence, but through the most insidious method possible: telepathy. It wasn’t just the occasional thought that slipped through his mind; it was a constant bombardment, an invasive force that made him question everything about himself.

  The voice was cold, venomous, and relentless.

  “Accept you will never be loved because you’re unattractive and have no money or status,” it whispered again, like it had every day for the past week. “You’re useless. Your life is meaningless and worth nothing to anyone.”

  Leonardo clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He could hear it in his mind, the words echoing with an unnerving clarity. It felt like the Monster was inside his head, peeling back his thoughts layer by layer, exposing every vulnerable part of him. Every insecurity that he had buried deep within himself, every doubt that had always lingered in the back of his mind, was now front and center.

  “You don’t deserve love because you’re ugly.”

  His heart stuttered at the words. The Monster knew exactly where to strike. Leonardo had always struggled with his appearance—his hair never quite as thick as he wanted, his skin never quite as clear, his features too plain to stand out. But it wasn’t just the looks that stung. The Monster attacked everything that made him feel human. Everything that made him feel worth something.

  “You don’t deserve any happiness, only pain for being weak.”

  He could feel the sting of those words like a slap across his face. Weak. It was the one thing that Leonardo had always tried to avoid being, the one thing he couldn’t bear. In a world where strength was everything, where heroes were revered for their powers and abilities, what was he?

  Nothing.

  Leonardo’s vision blurred as the words continued to invade his mind. He could almost feel them pressing in on him, suffocating him. He tried to block them out, tried to ignore them, but the Monster’s voice was too powerful. It was relentless, it had no mercy.

  “You’re a failure. No one will ever care about you. No one will ever miss you when you’re gone.”

  It was like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. The weight of the Monster’s words threatened to collapse him, to break him down into nothing. All he wanted was to be seen, to be valued for something other than his status or appearance. But no matter what he did, the Monster was there, a shadow in his mind, reminding him daily that he was worthless.

  Tears welled up in his eyes as he clenched his jaw, trying to hold them back. But the voice didn’t stop. It was like an unrelenting wave crashing over him, each word more brutal than the last.

  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it.

  But what terrified him the most was the realization that the Monster wasn’t just attacking his mind. It was shaping his reality. The more the Monster whispered these lies, the more they began to feel true. Maybe I am useless. Maybe I am weak. Maybe I don’t deserve anything.

  Every day, it felt like he was losing himself to the darkness. He could hear the whispers echoing louder, drowning out everything else. And with every passing moment, it became harder to fight back. The Monster had planted the seeds of doubt so deeply inside him that it seemed like there was no way out.

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  Then, something unexpected happened.

  A voice—familiar, comforting—cut through the haze of the Monster’s whispers.

  Krishna.

  The student sat beside him, his presence grounding, like a soft but steady anchor in the storm. Krishna’s words were simple, but they felt like a lifeline.

  “You’re not alone, Leonardo. Don’t listen to that voice. It’s not you.”

  Leonardo looked up, his face red with emotion, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

  “I can’t stop it… It’s too much. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  Krishna placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his touch offering some measure of comfort.

  “You’re stronger than this. Don’t let the Monster win. You are more than what he says you are. You have worth. You have purpose.”

  It wasn’t a magic cure, it wasn’t an instant fix. But in that moment, something inside Leonardo stirred. The weight of the Monster’s words was still there, but Krishna’s words made a crack in the suffocating darkness.

  He wasn’t alone.

  And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to push back against the suffocating whispers of the Monster.

  The Shattered Heart

  The days following the relentless whispers of the Monster felt like a blur. Every waking moment was consumed by the poison that had seeped deep into Leonardo’s mind. It wasn’t just the words anymore; it was the silence that followed them. A silence that felt more oppressive than anything the Monster had said. The empty space where love should have been, where any sense of warmth or connection once existed—now… gone.

  Leonardo sat in his dorm room, his back against the cold wall, staring blankly ahead. His thoughts were numb, his heart even more so. He could barely remember a time when he had believed in anything—believed in others, or in himself.

  The Monster had broken him.

  Every word it whispered over the course of the days, the weeks, had etched its mark deeper into his psyche. He had once been someone who cared, someone who longed for connection, someone who craved to be seen and loved. But that person was now a distant memory, lost in a sea of negativity and despair.

  “You don’t deserve love.”

  “You’re weak.”

  “No one will ever care about you.”

  Each word twisted its way into the very core of his being, until the meaning of those phrases became undeniable truths in his mind. The people who had once tried to pull him from the abyss—Krishna, others in his class—couldn’t reach him now. Their words, no matter how genuine, felt hollow against the crushing weight of the Monster’s influence. They no longer mattered.

  Leonardo’s face remained expressionless. There were no tears, no anger, no frustration. Just a cold void where his heart used to be.

  Love? He didn’t believe in it anymore. Not for himself. Not for anyone. He had been convinced, twisted, that he was unworthy, unlovable, irreparably broken.

  The realization settled in like a final, bitter truth: he would never love again.

  He couldn’t even remember what it felt like—the flutter of the heart when someone smiled at him, the rush of emotion when he cared for someone. It was all gone, suffocated beneath the weight of the Monster’s cruel words. He had shut himself off from the world. Why bother? Why reach out when every attempt would end in pain and rejection? The world had shown him that there was no place for him in it. Love was a lie. Connection was a fragile illusion.

  “You’re worthless. Your life is meaningless.”

  Leonardo had tried, at first, to fight it. He had listened to Krishna's voice, felt his hand on his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, there was something like hope. But that hope had been swiftly crushed by the unyielding whispers. His soul was too tired to fight anymore. There was no use in trying.

  He had shut himself off from everyone. His classmates, who once saw him as a friend, now only looked at him with confusion, unsure of what had happened to the person he once was. But Leonardo didn’t care. They couldn’t save him now. No one could. He had already made his choice.

  The very thought of love—of trusting, of feeling for someone—became an alien concept. The emptiness inside him had become a fortress. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to be loved. That emotion had been erased, consumed by the Monster’s taunts until it was nothing more than a distant, forgotten dream.

  Leonardo became a shell of his former self. Cold. Detached. Numb.

  No more dreams. No more aspirations. He no longer believed in anything that wasn’t tangible, in anything that didn’t serve to confirm his self-loathing.

  The world had told him he was nothing. And now, in the shadow of the Monster’s control, he believed it. He was nothing.

  And in that nothingness, he found a sick sort of peace.

  “You don’t deserve happiness.”

  Maybe the Monster was right.

  The Path of the Void

  Leonardo’s transformation was as unsettling as it was inevitable. The Monster’s words had torn apart his understanding of the world, leaving only a cold, calculating shell behind. His emotions—once vibrant, full of hope, love, and yearning—had been suffocated, strangled by the suffocating darkness the Monster had planted in his mind.

  Love? Relationships? He had discarded those ideas like broken toys, things that only existed to disappoint him. He had long given up on the hope of connection. It was clear to him now: no one would ever love him, no one could ever love someone like him, so why even bother?

  Instead of clinging to fleeting dreams of affection, Leonardo began to see something else—something far more practical, far more assured: power. In the emptiness of his heart, he found the cold, merciless logic of survival.

  In a world where he would never be loved, he could be feared. A paid murderer. A weapon for hire. No attachments. No expectations. No need for anything except cold, hard cash. He would become a master of death, a shadow in the night, and the world would finally recognize him for what he was—someone who could control their own fate, regardless of the Monster’s cruel whispers.

  The first thought felt like a strange relief. For the first time in a long while, his mind felt clear. He would no longer wait for someone to validate his existence. No longer would he reach out in vain, hoping for someone to care, someone to love. He would create his own worth. By the blade. By the kill.

  With his emotionless gaze locked onto his reflection in the mirror, Leonardo made a quiet vow: he would never be weak again. He would never be vulnerable. He would never give anyone the chance to hurt him again.

  The idea of becoming a killer felt almost right. It was simple. Direct. And in a world that had abandoned him, this was the only thing that made sense. There was no longer a desire for justice or redemption. Those were just illusions, ways to tie people to a sense of morality that had never truly existed in his world. He would be a paid killer—a ghost who lived in the shadows, leaving nothing behind but death and cold, hard cash.

  He would take on jobs—jobs that didn’t care who he was or what he had lost. He would be paid for his services, for his lethal efficiency. The people who hired him wouldn’t care about his past, wouldn’t care about his loneliness, wouldn’t care about the fact that he was beyond saving. They just wanted results, and he would give them results.

  He would be a tool, a weapon. Nothing more.

  For the first time in what felt like years, a sense of control washed over him. He no longer needed love. He no longer needed validation. In its place, he found a cold, calculating focus. Love, with all its promises and heartbreaks, had been a lie. But death? Death was a certainty. It was the one thing that never lied, never disappointed.

  With a small, empty smile on his lips, Leonardo realized he had found his purpose: to kill, to earn, to become a shadow—a name feared by those who hired him and forgotten by all others.

  He would never feel love again. But that no longer mattered.

  What mattered now was his own survival, his power. And in a world that had abandoned him, he would take what he could. No one would ever control his fate again.

  He Felt Only Money Meant Everything in His Life

  Leonardo had long stopped trying to seek validation or affection. His former dreams of love and companionship now seemed like foolish illusions. The words the Monster had planted in his mind had taken root, twisting his perception of the world around him. He looked at people—friends, classmates, even strangers—and saw them for what they were: a means to an end, nothing more.

  Money, the Monster had whispered, was the only thing that could provide the power and control he needed. It was the only thing that could fill the emptiness he felt. Emotions were a weakness, love was a lie, and human connection was a cruel joke. The only thing that mattered now was wealth—the power it gave him, the security it promised.

  In the dark corners of his mind, Leonardo calculated everything in terms of currency. Conversations were opportunities for manipulation, relationships were transactions, and kindness was a form of barter. He no longer cared for anyone’s well-being, nor did he expect anyone to care for his. Why should they? No one had ever truly valued him. His body, his mind, his existence—none of it was worth anything beyond the number of zeros it could accumulate in a bank account.

  His new path was clear: he would become a paid murderer, an assassin for hire. The world was full of people who valued wealth above all else—people willing to pay to have others removed from their lives. Leonardo didn’t feel disgusted by this. In fact, it seemed like the only reasonable way to exist in a world so consumed by money. Every kill would bring him closer to the riches he desired, and in return, he'd receive the satisfaction of knowing that, for once, he held control over something—anything—in this cruel, indifferent world.

  Days turned into weeks as Leonardo sank deeper into this mindset. He practiced cold detachment, distancing himself from his former classmates, even those he once considered his friends. Every ounce of emotion he had once held for others was now gone, extinguished by the Monster’s cruel words. He spent his nights hunting for the highest-paying contracts, slowly building a reputation as someone who could get the job done without question, without hesitation.

  He was meticulous, precise, and utterly devoid of empathy. The money was the only thing that mattered now. With each successful job, with every dollar he earned, Leonardo felt his sense of self grow stronger. He wasn’t weak anymore. He wasn’t useless. He was someone who could make a difference—by ending lives and collecting his payment.

  But even in the midst of his success, there was a nagging void deep within him, a space that no amount of money or blood could fill. It was the same void that had once been filled by the hope for love, for acceptance. The Monster had won, and Leonardo had become the monster, too.

  One night, as he stood over his latest target, counting the money that would soon be his, a strange thought crossed his mind. Is this it? He had everything he thought he wanted. Wealth. Power. Control. Yet, there was still something missing—a piece of him that remained broken, a part of his soul that couldn’t be bought or killed.

  For a moment, the illusion cracked. He wondered if there was still a part of him that could feel something, even if it was only pain. But he quickly pushed the thought away. Emotions had no place in his life anymore. They were useless, weak. He was beyond that now.

  Money was everything. And that was all he needed to survive.

  The Break in the Armor

  Yuki had been trying for weeks now. Every time she saw Leonardo, there was this look in his eyes—a cold, vacant expression that seemed almost impossible to break. Yet, she was determined to see the humanity that was still buried beneath all the layers of pain, the layers of anger. She refused to believe that the person she once saw—a person capable of kindness, vulnerability, and warmth—had truly been erased. So, she kept trying, kept reaching out, even when he pushed her away.

  But this time, as she stepped forward, her voice full of concern and care, she thought she saw a crack in the wall he’d built around himself.

  “Leo!” Yuki’s voice shook with urgency, her eyes pleading with him. “There’s no need for this madness! Please, just listen to me. We can figure this out, together.”

  Leonardo, standing a few paces away, looked down at her, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. His hands were clenched into fists, and his jaw was tight. He couldn’t quite understand it—couldn’t comprehend why she, of all people, was still trying to reach him.

  “Life took what it wanted from me,” Leonardo growled, his voice rough, like a knife scraping across stone. “Look at me. A shallow murderer. That’s all I am now. All I’ll ever be. And don’t act like you love me. Don’t. I don’t trust your intentions, Yuki.”

  His words hit Yuki like a slap, but she didn’t falter. She took another step closer, not backing down.

  “Leo… please,” she whispered, her voice a blend of softness and desperation. “Just listen to me. Please, just once. I don’t want to lose you to this... this darkness. I do love you.”

  The words hung in the air between them, an invisible bridge of raw emotion that Leonardo refused to cross. He stared at her for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

  “You love me?” he repeated, the disbelief in his voice as sharp as a blade. “How could you possibly love someone like me? How could you love someone who’s nothing but a weapon, a tool for hire? I’m worthless.”

  Yuki’s face softened, and she stepped forward, now standing right in front of him. “I see the real you, Leo. I see the person you used to be, the person you still are deep down. This isn’t you. The real you is still here.”

  But Leonardo recoiled. The anger in his eyes flared, and the defensive walls he’d built over the past months hardened once again.

  “No!” he shouted, his voice breaking with frustration. “I’ve been watching you—watching your behavior, your actions. I see the disinterest in your eyes, the way you back off when I’m around. Shy doesn’t excuse the fact that you don’t truly care! Don’t give me that crap, Yuki. Don’t make it seem like you actually love me. It’s just pity, or some stupid attempt to save a lost cause. I’m nothing but a killer, and you’re just another person trying to fix something that can’t be fixed.”

  Yuki stood there, stunned by the force of his words. It was like she was staring into the eyes of a man who had lost all belief in the possibility of love, who had given up hope of being seen for who he truly was.

  "Leo, no..." Her voice trembled, but she stood firm. "You’re not a lost cause. You’re not just a killer. You’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s been twisted by his own pain, but that doesn’t mean there’s no good left in you. I can see it. And I won’t stop trying to help you. Not because I pity you, but because I care about you."

  Leonardo’s eyes burned with a mixture of anger and confusion. “You don’t get it, Yuki,” he spat. “This is who I am now. I’m a tool, a weapon. I have no purpose beyond what I’m paid for. There’s nothing left for me to be other than this.”

  The silence that fell between them was thick, charged with unspoken emotions. Yuki could see the broken pieces of him, shattered and scattered, and all she wanted was to put him back together. But he was so far gone, so consumed by his own cynicism and pain that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see the truth.

  “I love you, Leo,” Yuki repeated, her voice quieter now, but filled with an unyielding resolve. “And that doesn’t change, no matter how much you try to push me away. I’ll never stop caring about you. Never.”

  Leonardo’s face twisted with frustration, and he took a step back, his fists tightening again. “Stop saying that,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with emotion. “I don’t need your love. I don’t deserve it. So stop trying to fix me, stop trying to make me something I’m not.”

  But Yuki didn’t flinch. She was resolute now, even in the face of his anger. “I won’t stop, Leo. I’ll keep trying. I won’t give up on you.”

  With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there—caught between the darkness he had embraced and the light she was offering. But Leonardo didn’t move, didn’t follow. Instead, he stood frozen, his mind a warzone of conflicting thoughts, emotions, and regrets.

  Why does she still care?

  Why is she still trying?

  Deep down, he didn’t know what to make of it, but one thing was certain: Yuki’s words had cracked something in him, even if only for a moment.

  And for the first time in a long time, Leonardo wondered if there might be a way out of this endless cycle of pain and bitterness. But that was a thought he wasn’t ready to face. Not yet.