Chapter 1: The Renaissance

It was a gloomy and cold night. The streets of the city were deserted, covered with a thick haze that curled around the buildings like a funeral veil. In that scenario of decadence, in a corner forgotten by the light, a nightmare was born, a broken soul that returned from the abysses to claim justice.

Vladimir Corvo had died. It was known to everyone who ever heard his name or crossed his path. He had been murdered in the most brutal way, leaving him and his beloved lying like broken toys, abandoned on a cold and empty street. The memories of that day haunted him even in death. The pain of watching her die, the terror in her eyes, her broken laugh. Everything had been taken from him.

But death was not the end for Vladimir. Something else was waiting for him. In the darkness on the other side, a crow brought him back.

He rose from his grave one rainy night, feeling the damp, cold earth peel off his skin. He was not the same man he once was. His memories were distorted, fragmented, but one thing was crystal clear: he had returned for revenge.

With every step he took in the silent streets of the city, memories came back to him like a whip whipping him. The image of his fiancee, Alina, fading into his arms as the killers fled. Cruel laughter echoed in his mind, and hatred grew, feeding on his pain. Justice was no longer enough. Now, he was just looking for a cruel and merciless revenge.

Vladimir headed to his old home, a place that now existed only in ruins. The walls, once full of life, were now a reflection of their own existence, broken and devastated. There, she found the memories she had left, insignificant things that had meant everything before: a photo of Alina, smiling in better times, a ring that she never got to put on her finger, and the black leather jacket she used to wear. He dressed her, clenching his fists tightly. The crow cawed from a broken window, watching in silence.

The revenge started that night.

The first victim

The city was a labyrinth of shadows, a place where violence and corruption ruled with an iron fist. Deep in her dark heart, there existed a gang known for its brutality, the same gang that had taken Alina's life. Their leaders were untouchable, protected by the corrupt law and the fear they inspired. But Vladimir was not afraid of death; he had already been there.

Through alleys and rooftops, Vladimir hunted like a predatory beast, invisible to those who walked the streets. The raven was guiding him, showing him the way, leading him to his first prey.

Inks, they called it. One of the four responsible for the massacre. She found him in a seedy club, surrounded by men who were laughing and drinking, oblivious to the danger that was looming over them. Vladimir watched him from the shadows, feeling the fire of revenge burn in his chest. She remembered his face perfectly; she had been there that night, with a sadistic smile as he took everything she loved from her.

Vladimir entered the club without being seen. Loud music and thick smoke filled the place. He didn't care. He approached stealthily, like a shadow. No one noticed until it was too late.

- Inks! - his voice rumbled like a death sentence.

The man turned around, confused at first, but when he saw Vladimir's pale face and furious eyes, he knew that the past had come back to haunt him. The guards tried to intervene, but they were nothing more than obstacles. Vladimir dispatched them with brutal efficiency, using the strength that pain and anger had given him.

Tints tried to run away, but Vladimir caught up with him. He dragged him to a dark corner of the club, crushing him against the wall.

- Do you remember me? - Vladimir asked, although he did not expect an answer. That night... she begged you to let her live.

Inks' eyes were filled with terror. He stammered, stammering excuses, asking for forgiveness, but there was no room for forgiveness in Vladimir's heart.

—There is no mercy for monsters like you—" she whispered before plunging a dagger into his chest.

Tintas groaned, his life escaping from his body as Vladimir watched him mercilessly. This was just the beginning.

The first victim

The seedy club where Tintas was staying was a decadent joint, full of smoke, raucous music and lost souls. In the distance, the figure of Vladimir Corvo moved among the shadows, invisible to those who indulged in vice and chaos inside the premises. The raven, always present, was cawing at the broken window of the building as if anticipating the violence that was about to be unleashed.

Tintas was a burly man, his body covered with tattoos, hence his nickname. He was surrounded by bodyguards, enjoying the company of women and liquor as if the past could not reach him. But the past found him that night, in the form of a man who had already crossed the line between life and death.

Vladimir crept through the club, like a ghost hungry for justice. No one saw him, no one noticed his presence until it was too late. A flurry of precise and brutal movements wiped out the guards who stood in his way. Their bodies fell heavily to the ground, their throats slit and their gazes fixed on the void, before they could even draw their weapons.

Inks froze at the sight of the butcher's shop, but real terror seized him when he recognized Vladimir.

- You... you're dead! - he exclaimed, drawing back with a pale face.

—I was,— Vladimir replied in a grave voice full of a terrifying calm, his gaze fixed like a dagger in Inks eyes. But I'm back... and you're gonna pay for what you did.

The man tried to escape, pushing people around him as chaos broke out at the club. The music stopped, panicked screams filled the place, but Vladimir did not take his eyes off his target. With an agile and fierce leap, he pounced on Inks, knocking him to the ground.

Vladimir dragged him by the collar into a dark corner, where the sound of rain was pounding against the broken windows.

- Do you remember her? - he asked, in a voice as cold as steel. Her face was inches away from that of Inks, whose pupils were dilating with terror.

- It was nothing personal! - groaned the man, pleading-. It was just a job, I swear!

"For me, it was everything," Vladimir muttered, and without further words, he unsheathed the dagger he was carrying hidden under his leather jacket.

The blade flashed briefly in the dim light of the club before sinking into Tintas' abdomen. The man let out a heart-rending scream, but Vladimir showed no mercy. Each stab wound was an echo of the pain he had suffered himself, a reminder of the suffering that had been inflicted on him. Inks' life faded into a pool of blood, and when Vladimir stood up, the only one left was darkness and the promise of more revenge to come.

The promise of revenge

Leaving the inert body of Inks on the ground, Vladimir left the club, walking with a firm step in the rain. The storm had gathered more strength, heavy drops were pounding against the pavement, and the city seemed to be plunging into an even more gloomy atmosphere. The crow flew over him, cawing from time to time as if celebrating the fall of the first victim.

As he went on, the memories of that fateful night hit him harder. The grotesque laughter of the murderers, Alina's screams as she was brutalized, and her own helpless pain when she felt her life fading away. They were images that tormented him endlessly, feeding hatred and the desire to do justice with his own hands.

I knew it wouldn't be easy. The other three responsible would not fall as fast as Inks. They were better protected, hidden in the depths of the city's underworld, but there was no place where they could hide from the raven and his judgment.

Vladimir walked to the outskirts of the city, towards the ruins of what was once his home. There, in the middle of the desolation, he found the place where he and Alina had shared their last moments. All that was left was a wrecked building, covered in graffiti and moss, as if time itself had decided to erase its existence.

He knelt down in front of the rubble, taking a handful of wet earth in his hands.

—I promise," he murmured, his voice breaking, as the raven perched on a beam beside him. There will be no peace until each of them pays. Alina... I'm going to get even with you.

Tears mingled with the rain, but there was no place for comfort. The only thing left was the pain, and with it, the strength to keep going.

The crow cawed again, and Vladimir knew it was time to move on. His search was not over yet.

A new hunter in the night

The names of the other three were etched in his mind like a list of the damned: Karlos, Funboy, and Top Dollar. Each of them had participated in the brutal murder. Each had played his part in the destruction of his life. And now, he would play his part in her destruction.

Vladimir moved through the city streets with the precision of a hunter. He was no longer a man; he had become something more, a dark spirit with a unique mission. As he made his way through the alleys lit by the flashing lights of neon signs, memories pushed him forward. Every corner of the city seemed to have the echo of a cruel laughter, of a shadow of what was taken from him.

He stopped in front of an old abandoned factory. The raven perched on his shoulder, his black eyes watching the place with an unearthly intelligence. He had heard rumors that Karlos, the most ruthless of the four, was hiding there, controlling the drug and weapons trade from the shadows.

Vladimir stood motionless for a moment, contemplating the abandoned factory that stood in front of him like a scar on the city landscape. The broken windows looked like dead eyes watching him, and the wind through the cracks whistled like an ominous whisper. In that place, Karlos controlled his empire of death and destruction, oblivious that fate had caught up with him.

The crow over his shoulder cawed, as if giving a signal. Vladimir took a breath, letting hatred fill him again, a force that kept him standing in his new existence. The time for reflection was over. There was only one truth in his mind: Karlos was going to die tonight.

With light, determined steps, he stepped into the darkness of the factory.

The hunt begins

The inside of the factory was a maze of rusty structures and old machinery, most of which had been unused for years. However, it was not empty. The voices of the men who worked for Karlos could be heard in the distance, carefree laughter that bounced between the dirty and worn walls. Vladimir crept forward, moving through the shadows as if he were one of them, a spectre gliding through the darkness unseen.

As he approached the center of the building, he could see some of Karlos' thugs carrying boxes of weapons and drugs, guarding the surroundings with the carelessness of those who believe there is no threat. He watched them for a moment from a dark corner, calculating their movements. There was no need to face them all at once. He had learned to be patient, to let his enemies destroy themselves with their own actions. But the fury was hard to contain.

One of the men broke away from the group, approaching the corner where Vladimir was waiting, perhaps to make a surveillance round or just to take a breather. It didn't matter. Vladimir moved quickly, like a shadow in the night, grabbing the man by the neck and dragging him into the darkness. The sound was brief, a silent choking, and in a matter of seconds, the body fell lifeless to the ground.

The crow cawed again. It was the sound of the sentence, of impending death.

Vladimir slipped further inside, his dark gaze focused on one target: Karlos.

The Meeting with Karlos

Arriving at the center of the factory, he saw Karlos sitting on a makeshift throne, surrounded by boxes full of drugs and weapons, with his most loyal men around, keeping watch with automatic weapons and hard faces. Karlos was a portly man, with scars that crossed his face like war medals. His intimidating appearance was the reason why his men were blindly following him.

Karlos was smiling and drinking, as if death would never touch him. Vladimir watched him for a moment, remembering his face, remembering how he had been present that night, laughing while he and Alina were suffering. That memory rekindled the fire inside her.

- Karlos! - Vladimir shouted, emerging from the shadows.

Silence fell like a stone slab. All the men turned towards him, surprised by the sudden appearance. Karlos himself frowned, at first not recognizing the pale man advancing towards him.

- Who the hell are you? - growled Karlos, getting up from his seat with one hand on the pistol he was carrying in his belt.

—I am the death you forgot—" Vladimir replied, his voice low and sharp as a knife. I am the man you murdered, the man who came back from hell to take your life.

Karlos stared at him for a second, his eyes narrowed in confusion, and then, recognition crossed his face like a slap.

- No... he mumbled, taking a step back. It's not possible! You're dead!

"He was dead," Vladimir corrected as he slowly, unstoppably advanced. But I came back for you.

Karlos' guards reacted at last, pulling out their weapons and firing towards Vladimir. But he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. The shots seemed to stop in the air around him, as if the accompanying crow was deflecting the bullets. Vladimir moved with supernatural speed, dodging, jumping, hitting the guards with lethal accuracy.

One by one, Karlos' men fell. Screams of pain and despair filled the factory as Vladimir mercilessly eliminated them. His movements were swift and merciless, breaking necks, crushing bones, making his enemies drop like flies.

Karlos, now alone, was backing away slowly, his hand shaking as he tried to pull out his gun. But before he could pull the trigger, Vladimir disarmed him with a dry blow, throwing the weapon to the ground.

- Please... Karlos groaned, falling to his knees. It was nothing personal. It was just a job...

—It was personal for me—" Vladimir replied, not taking his gaze away from Karlos' terrified eyes.

The crow cawed from a high beam, and Karlos understood that there was no escape. There was no mercy in the eyes of the man in front of him. This was a divine punishment.

- Tell me, did she beg you for her life too? - Vladimir asked, his voice barely a whisper, but charged with infinite fury.

Karlos was trembling, unable to answer. It didn't matter. Vladimir did not need to hear his lies. What I needed, what I wanted, was justice. And justice came in a flash of steel as he plunged the dagger into Karlos' heart, twisting the blade until life left his body.

The echo of death echoed through the empty factory.

The weight of darkness

Vladimir stood for a moment contemplating the corpse of Karlos, the man who had been part of the horror that shattered his life. Her motionless body seemed insignificant now, reduced to a mass of flesh and bones, as vulnerable as Alina had been that night. But Karlos' death did not bring the peace he had hoped for. Instead, he felt the same emptiness, the same despair that had accompanied him since his return from the abyss.

The raven perched next to him, croaking softly as if calling him to continue. But Vladimir did not need any indication. He knew his mission wasn't over; there were two more to go. Funboy and Top Dollar. Both were hiding in the shadows, believing themselves safe from justice, but their time would come. The raven would lead him to them.

The rain kept falling, soaking the abandoned factory and washing away the blood of the souls that Vladimir had snatched that night. He turned around without looking back, walking with a firm step towards the exit. As he progressed, his mind filled with memories of Funboy, the violent addict, and Top Dollar, the mastermind behind the whole operation. Everyone would get their punishment, just like Karlos.

The echo of his footsteps echoed through the empty factory, and although the place had fallen silent after the massacre, the city still groaned under the weight of its own misery. For Vladimir, all that pain, all that injustice, had a face. And until each of the men who condemned him to death felt his revenge, there would be no rest.

The crow cawed again, and Vladimir looked up at the cloud-covered sky. The darkness was his ally, and under its mantle, he would continue to hunt. Funboy and Top Dollar were not far away. And when he found them, they too would beg for their lives. They would also witness the fury of a man who had returned from the other side.

But the only thing they would get would be death.

The dawn of revenge

The horizon was beginning to clear, although the city still remained immersed in gloom. The flickering lights of the abandoned buildings flickered, throwing irregular flashes in the blackness of the alleys. The rain continued its monotonous melody, falling insistently on the rusty roofs and the empty streets, a sad and constant melody that accompanied the condemned.

Vladimir stopped under a half-broken canopy, his face expressionless as he watched the day slowly creep in. The dawn, the first ray of light, barely managed to break through the blanket of dense clouds that covered the sky. For him, there was no difference between day and night. Everything was plunged into the same darkness.

Funboy and Top Dollar, the last names on his list, could no longer be hidden. With Karlos dead, fear would spread among them, and they would know that their hour was approaching. They would scramble like rats trapped in a cage, but the cage was the city, and in it, there was no escape from the raven and his mission of revenge.

Vladimir stroked Alina's pendant hanging from her neck, a relic of her past life, before clenching his fist tightly. There was no room for doubt or forgiveness. The monsters that had destroyed his world were destined to fall, and he would be the executor of that sentence.

The crow cawed one last time, taking flight in the direction of the darkest and most dangerous streets of the city, where Funboy was hiding. Vladimir followed him, his footsteps silent but relentless. He knew that, by the time the sun actually ascended over the sky, a new life would have been extinguished.

This was how the dawn was for him: not a promise of hope, but confirmation that his revenge was advancing. With each death, he got closer to justice for Alina, and maybe, just maybe, to the eternal rest that he himself was looking for. But not tonight, not this morning. There was still blood to be shed.

With his figure melted into the gloom, Vladimir disappeared into the alleys. The crow was flying in circles above him, a sign that the hunter was still standing. Revenge, like the dawn, had no end.