A New Life
Fifteen Years Later
The neon lights of Las Verga glowed brightly against the night sky, a city that never slept, a city where pasts could be buried, and new lives could begin. The streets buzzed with life—music, chatter, and the occasional roar of a modified engine.
But inside a well-lit studio, a different kind of energy thrived.
Camera crews moved swiftly, adjusting lenses, fine-tuning audio. Editors stared at their screens, fingers flying over keyboards. The glow of monitors reflected off their glasses as they worked through another high-production episode.
And in one of the quieter corners of the studio, behind a desk stacked with notes and scripts, a man in his late twenties sat, lost in thought.
Remond.
His appearance had changed—his once-messy hair was now trimmed neatly, his features sharper, more defined. There was a calmness to him now, a quiet strength. Yet, if someone who had known him fifteen years ago looked closely, they would recognize the fire still hidden behind his eyes.
A faded scar ran along his forearm, a silent reminder of the past he had left behind.
He leaned over his desk, adjusting his reading glasses as he scanned the script in front of him.
"Alright… This should work."
His pen scratched across the paper, finalizing the notes for the host of their channel.
This was his life now.
A new name. A new purpose.
A career that had nothing to do with violence, nothing to do with revenge.
It had been Master Ho Dieng's idea for him to leave the state. A fresh start, he had said. And so, Remond found himself in Las Verga, diving into a world he never expected—content creation.
At first, it was just a small gig—a way to blend in, disappear. But over the years, the channel had grown, and now, it was one of the most successful media brands on the platform.
And tonight—
They were celebrating.
---
Celebration Night
The party room was filled with laughter, the air buzzing with excitement.
Remond stood near the bar, holding a glass of whiskey, watching as his teammates cheered, danced, and celebrated.
The reason?
They had just received the Platinum Play Button—a milestone marking ten million subscribers.
"Man, I still can't believe we made it!" shouted Troy, their lead editor, waving his drink.
"Believe it!" Alina, their charismatic host, grinned as she held up the shiny plaque. "This is proof that hard work pays off!"
"Hard work? Please," Noah, their audio engineer, smirked. "Half of our success is because Remond here writes the best scripts."
Remond chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't give me all the credit. It's a team effort."
Alina raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You never even show up on camera, but everyone on the team knows you're the reason our episodes hit so hard."
Remond took a sip of his drink, allowing himself to smile.
It was strange.
This wasn't a mission. This wasn't a fight for survival.
It was life.
Real. Simple.
And for now—
That was enough.
"Alright, alright!" Elliot, the producer, clapped his hands. "Speech time! Remond, since you're the brains of the operation, you gotta say something!"
The room erupted in agreement.
Remond sighed, setting his drink down. "Fine, fine. Keep it short, though."
Everyone cheered.
He cleared his throat, looking around at the faces of the people he had spent years building something with.
"Fifteen years ago, I never imagined I'd be here. Hell, I didn't even know where I'd be. But what I do know is… this place? This team? You guys became my family. And for that, I'm grateful."
A round of applause followed.
"But," he added with a small smirk, "don't think I'm gonna start appearing on camera. That's still a no-go."
Laughter filled the room.
Alina rolled her eyes. "One day, I swear, we'll drag you into the spotlight."
"Not happening," Remond chuckled.
The party continued, drinks flowing, conversations lively.
And for a little while—
Remond allowed himself to forget.
---
Late Night Call
When he returned to his apartment, the city lights filtered through the window, casting faint shadows across the room.
He loosened his tie, exhaling as he sat on the couch.
Then—
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the name on the screen.
Master Ho Dieng.
Remond immediately picked up.
"Sensei," he greeted.
"Remond," the older man's voice was calm, but Remond could hear the exhaustion beneath it. "How was the celebration?"
Remond leaned back. "Not bad. We finally hit the big leagues."
Ho Dieng chuckled. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."
A moment of silence passed.
Then—
"Have you made any progress?" Remond asked.
Ho Dieng sighed. "We're still tracking down the Axiom Syndicate. Their movements are erratic, but we believe they are more powerful than we first thought."
Remond clenched his jaw.
Axiom Syndicate.
The people responsible for everything.
The ones who took Innes.
Who took Sid.
Who took his life away.
"I'll call you when we have more," Ho Dieng said. "But for now—live. That was the promise, remember?"
Remond closed his eyes.
"Yeah. I remember."
"Good. Get some rest, Remond."
The call ended.
Remond set his phone down, rubbing his temples.
Live, huh?
Some days, it was easier said than done.
---
The Nightmare Returns
That night, sleep did not come peacefully.
It never did.
The moment his eyes closed, the memories clawed their way back.
---
A ruined home. Blood on the floor. Innes, lifeless.
The air was thick with death.
The scent of iron and smoke.
The chameleon animaloid's body twitched on the ground.
Then—
A roar.
A tiger man. A polar bear.
The walls shattered, claws slashed through the air.
Pain.
Blood.
The city burning behind him.
He was running—
Running—
Running—
---
Remond jolted awake.
His heart pounded in his chest, his body drenched in sweat.
His breath was uneven, ragged.
He sat up, running a shaking hand through his hair.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years.
And still—
The nightmares never left.
He exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself.
Then, he whispered—just to the empty room.
"One day... I'll finish this."
He had buried his past.
But someday—
He would dig it back up.
And when that day came...
He would burn the Axiom Syndicate to the ground.