Chapter 3: The Scars of the Soul

The city was still asleep, shrouded in the early morning fog, when Vladimir Corvo stopped in front of a broken mirror in one of the many alleys he was walking through. The fragmented reflection of his face gave him back a distorted image, but in that distortion, Vladimir found a profound truth. His body had healed, his ability to heal from wounds was something that had saved his life more than once, but the invisible scars, the ones that ran through his soul, were still open, bleeding.

His eyes, dark and penetrating, were searching for answers in the cracks of the glass. Around him, the city remained a sleeping beast, indifferent to the chaos unfolding in its belly. The memories of Karlos falling under his hands, the fury unleashed, the momentary satisfaction of having taken a small revenge, all of it whirled in his mind like a storm. But the calm had not come, not even the peace he had hoped for.

Alina. Her name still floated in his thoughts, a distant and painful echo that he could not erase. "I will avenge you," he had promised her, but could he redeem himself? Revenge, though sweet in its brief moment, had left an even greater emptiness inside her. He knew it wasn't over yet, that Funboy and Top Dollar were still alive, but something deeper was starting to awaken inside him. A question he dared not ask himself: And then what?

The specter of remorse

Vladimir kept walking, with the feeling that something else was lurking in the shadows, something that was not the cold or the night. The raven accompanied him in silence, his black eyes watching him with a kind of ancient wisdom, as if he understood the weight he was carrying. He felt Alina's presence as a shadow in his soul, beyond death, beyond hatred. Had he managed to keep his promise? Or was he just sinking deeper into the darkness of revenge?

While his thoughts were spinning, he realized that he had reached the banks of the river that ran through the city, a place where he used to walk with Alina, away from the bustle and violence of the streets. The dark water reflected the gray sky, like a liquid mirror that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. In that quiet corner, time seemed to stand still, but it offered no comfort, only more questions.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember Alina's face clearly, but even that memory was fading little by little. The anger, the pain, the thirst for justice were consuming him. There was no escape. Revenge had transformed him, and the part of him that he had loved, that had known happiness, was being lost with each passing day. The Vladimir he once was no longer existed.

An unexpected ally

The stillness was broken by a sound that took him out of his thoughts. At first, he thought it was the rustling of some branch or the wind on the water, but the crow on his shoulder cawed, alert. Vladimir tensed up, his sharp instinct warned him that he was not alone.

From the shadows, a slim figure emerged, moving cautiously. The hood covered his face, but there was something about his bearing that caught Vladimir's attention. The eyes peeking out from the darkness seemed to know him. The figure stopped a few meters from him, and then, in a low and calm voice, pronounced his name.

- Vladimir.

The sound of her name on unfamiliar lips made him frown. I knew I shouldn't trust anyone, not in this city full of betrayals, but there was something different about this figure, something I couldn't define. The darkness that surrounded the city seemed to be permeated in him.

- Who are you? - he asked with a grave voice full of suspicion.

"Someone who knows what you've lost—" the figure replied, moving a little closer. The voice was soft, but loaded with a sadness that Vladimir recognized immediately. It was a sadness that reflected it-. Someone who is also looking for justice.

Vladimir clenched his fists, every fiber of his being screaming that he should be prepared for an attack, but something in that presence disarmed him. It was like looking at himself in a distorted mirror, as if the darkness he had plunged into had given him back a different version of himself. The crow on his shoulder cawed again, but it didn't go away. In silence, as if approving of the stranger's presence.

- Justice? he asked with a hint of bitterness in his voice. There is no such thing. Just revenge.

The figure nodded slowly, as if waiting for that answer.

- Maybe you're right. But maybe you haven't seen all that's at stake. It's not just about the ones who took Alina from you... The figure took a step closer. This is a much greater evil.

Vladimir did not move, but his thoughts stirred. What did the stranger know? What greater evil could there be than the personal suffering he himself had experienced? But the look in the figure's eyes, partially hidden by the hood, left no doubt: there was more at stake. Something bigger than his own tragedy.

The weight of the choice

Vladimir hesitated for a moment, feeling that something deeper was calling him from the stranger's words. Revenge, hatred, those were the engines that had brought him there, but at that moment, faced with the possibility of a greater purpose, he felt adrift. As if revenge was no longer enough to satiate the internal maelstrom that was devouring him.

- What do you know? - she asked, her voice raspy, torn by memories and pain.

The figure smiled slightly, and in that gesture there was an infinite sadness, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

- I know the pain consumes you. I know Funboy and Top Dollar are just pieces in a bigger game. If you kill them, you will not stop what is to come.

Vladimir tensed up. What could there be beyond revenge? Funboy and Top Dollar were responsible for Alina's death, for their own suffering, but... was there something more than them?

—There are forces in this city that even you have not begun to understand—" the figure continued, his voice lower, almost a whisper. Forces that use people like Funboy, like Karlos, like Top Dollar. They are all caught in a net that overcomes them, and if you do not stop the root, you will never find peace.

Silence fell between them, and the echo of those words echoed in Vladimir's mind. The city, always cold, always dark, was closing in around him. Could there be anything else? A purpose beyond his own revenge?

Finally, the figure took a step back, stepping into the shadows again, leaving one last warning:

- Find Funboy, but be careful. Not everything is as it seems. This is not the end of your story, Vladimir Corvo. It's just the beginning.

And with that, the figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving Vladimir alone once more, but with a new uncertainty burning in his heart

The weight of truth

The cold wind swept the streets while Vladimir remained motionless, processing the stranger's words. His body was still tense, ready for any attack, but his mind was miles away, engulfed in a storm of questions. What did it mean that there was something else behind Funboy and Top Dollar? Could it be true that they were just pawns in a bigger game? Until that moment, all he had pursued was revenge for Alina, but now, that thirst for justice seemed to be faltering, overshadowed by the possibility of an even darker truth.

The crow cawed from his shoulder, as if trying to pull him out of his trance, but the emptiness in his chest only seemed to deepen. Vladimir closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, as if trying to stabilize himself in the midst of the tide of confusion that flooded him. I couldn't trust anyone. He had learned that lesson the hard way, but the stranger's words reverberated inside him with an intensity he couldn't ignore.

Alina. The mere thought of her name pierced his heart like a sharp dagger. It had been everything to him. His light in the darkness. And those men had turned her off, reducing her life to ashes. What other motivation could he have had than that? What bigger game could justify such destruction?

But if there was something more at stake, something beyond simple revenge... I'd have to find out. Funboy would be his next target. Although he had no intention of stopping his mission, there was now a new shadow over his purpose, a shadow that pushed him to look beyond his own personal tragedy. If the stranger was telling the truth, killing Funboy would not be the end, just one more step on a longer and more tortuous path.

Hunter and prey

Vladimir walked the streets like a ghost, gliding through the shadows with an almost supernatural grace. The city was still alive around him, full of noise, violence and decay. The buildings rose up like sleeping monsters, indifferent to the pain they contained. Every step he took brought him closer to Funboy, the next on his list of condemned.

Funboy was an addict. A despicable being who had found pleasure in the destruction of Vladimir and Alina's life, and now, the hunter was approaching him. He had heard rumors about where he was hiding, in a seedy seedy hotel, surrounded by drugs and guns, shrouded in the same darkness that had swallowed everything up.

When Vladimir reached the outskirts of the hotel, he stopped for a moment. Neon lights flickered, giving the place a spectral air, as if the building itself was on the verge of crumbling. There was a stench in the air, a mixture of decay and despair. From the broken windows of the building, stifled laughter and incoherent moans could be heard, echoes of the lost souls that wandered around that place.

The crow on his shoulder cawed once more, as if encouraging him to move forward. Noiselessly, Vladimir slipped inside the building, his footsteps were barely a whisper on the worn floor. His senses were at their maximum, perceiving every sound, every movement. I could smell the rot of humanity there, feel the dark energy permeating every corner.

I knew Funboy was nearby. His prey was nearby. And the hunter was ready.

The Trial of Funboy

Vladimir stopped in front of a door on the third floor of the hotel. The crow, who had been silent, cawed loudly, almost as if he knew what was behind that door. Funboy was inside, wrapped up in his own misery, probably completely oblivious to the fate that was coming.

With a sharp movement, Vladimir opened the door, entering the room like a dark gale. The stench of drugs and sweat hit him immediately. In the center of the room, Funboy was lying on a mangled couch, a needle dangling from his arm, his eyes glazed over and his mind lost in some corner of his own personal hell.

- Who...? - Funboy stammered, his words faltering, barely aware of what was happening around him.

Vladimir slowly approached, his face an implacable mask of restrained fury. There was no mercy in his eyes, only the cold determination of one who has already crossed the threshold of death and returned to bring justice. Funboy tried to move, staggering like a broken puppet, but his movements were clumsy, empty of all strength.

- No!.. it can't be...! -Funboy groaned when his eyes finally focused on Vladimir, recognizing the figure before him. I had heard rumors, but I had never believed them. Vladimir Corvo was dead, murdered together with Alina, of that he was sure. And yet there he was, his shadow more alive than ever, a physical manifestation of pain and anger.

Vladimir looked at him, and for a moment, all the noise in the world disappeared. It was just him and Funboy. The screams of his past were rising in his mind, reminding him of everything he had lost, everything he had suffered. But as he raised his hand to punish Funboy, something inside him snapped.

- What do you have to say for yourself? - Vladimir asked, his voice barely a whisper, but full of unfathomable darkness.

Funboy gasped, trying to gather words, but all that came out was an incoherent mix of pleading and crying. There was no answer I could give, no justification for the monster that I was. Vladimir knew it. But what disturbed him was not Funboy's lack of regret, but the emptiness he felt inside himself.

Vladimir picked him up by the shirt and pushed him against the wall, his face close to Funboy's, his eyes dark, devoid of any trace of humanity.

—There is no redemption for you—" Vladimir muttered. Just punishment.

And with a precise and brutal movement, he hit him. Funboy fell to the ground, blood starting to run down his face as he tried to get up, but it was useless. Vladimir did not stop, every blow was an ephemeral release of his anger, every impact was the physical expression of his pain. But in the end, when Funboy lay motionless on the ground, all that was left was an even bigger void inside Vladimir.

The lurking shadows

Funboy's corpse, disfigured and bloodied, lay under Vladimir's feet as a macabre symbol of his accomplished revenge. The faint moonlight filtered through the cracks of the broken blinds, illuminating the pools of blood and the remains of the shattered room. Every drop of blood seemed to mark a step in his search, one more scar on his soul, but not one that would relieve him. The crow cawed with a perceptible uneasiness, as if sharing the same feeling of emptiness that consumed his master.

Vladimir, breathing heavily, watched Funboy with a mixture of hatred and disdain. This man had been part of the nightmare that took Alina from him, part of that tragedy that condemned him to walk on the edge between life and death. But while his fists still hurt from hitting Funboy's mangled face, something inside him wouldn't shut down. That insatiable thirst had not been satisfied by his death, it had only intensified.

The pain, ever present, swirled in his chest. "What's left now?"he wondered, knowing there was more. But the question was not about how many more had to die in order for his thirst for revenge to be quenched. The real doubt was whether or not his revenge would return some of what he had lost. Could he restore the world that had been taken from him?

"All is not as it seems," the stranger in the shadows had said. What else was there, beyond Alina's brutal murder and her own resurrection in this living nightmare?

Vladimir left the room shattered, leaving Funboy's corpse as a silent warning in that forgotten hotel. The stairs creaked under his boots, and every step towards the exit felt like a march into a deeper abyss. The raven followed him from the heights, always present, always vigilant. As an extension of his own tormented soul.

A darker truth

The streets received him with the icy embrace of the night. The city, always vibrant in its corruption, continued its pulse. Drunks staggered in the alleys, police sirens blared in the distance, and neon lights flickered with the characteristic indifference of the living. But Vladimir was not part of that world. No more.

He moved like a shadow, invisible to the eyes of those who could not comprehend the darkness in which he dwelt. Funboy was second on his list. Karlos had fallen before, and now there was only Top Dollar left. The name burned in his mind, a constant reminder of the last piece of the puzzle. But that stranger, that man who had stopped him before he reached Funboy, had given him a warning that he could not ignore now.

Vladimir had to find answers before he got to Top Dollar. Something darker lurked behind the events that had destroyed him and Alina, something that went beyond ordinary violence. As he walked, he felt the increasing weight of truth approaching. But what is the truth? And more importantly, what was he going to do with her when he found her?

He stopped in front of a ramshackle store in one of the darkest neighborhoods of the city. It was an old pharmacy that had closed years ago, but it had its secrets. In the shadows of the doorway, a scruffy-looking man was watching him from the shadows. His face was a mask of scars, his eyes, two empty wells of suffering. Vladimir recognized him immediately. Gideon, an information trafficker in the underworld, someone who had seen more than any human being should have witnessed.

"Gideon—" Vladimir said, his voice hoarse and full of that spectral coldness that had become a part of him.

Gideon shifted in his seat, nervous. He could feel the aura of death surrounding Vladimir, that undeniable feeling that death was walking next to him. No one in their right mind would dare to challenge him.

- What do you want, dead man? - Gideon asked, his voice trembling.

Vladimir took a step closer, and the crow flew over the dealer's head, as a warning sign.

- Whatever's behind Karlos, Funboy and Top Dollar... you know that. I saw it in your eyes the last time I was here. It's not just revenge I'm after, is it? - Vladimir lowered his voice, but the edge of his words was as lethal as a razor.

Gideon swallowed, looking around, as if hoping for a salvation that would not come.

- Them... they were just the rats, the damn rats... but there's something else," Gideon sputtered, moving his hands nervously. Something bigger. They're into things that neither you nor I should be knowing about. Something that goes back to the deepest part of this damn city.

"Talk," Vladimir said, not bothering to hide his growing impatience.

Gideon looked out of the corner of his eye, and then whispered:

- Top Dollar... he doesn't just run the gangs. He's in touch with something, something... dark. Something that brings power, but at a price. All of them - Karlos, Funboy, T-Bird, everyone — were involved in it. You and Alina were only part of the sacrifice.

Vladimir's heart stopped for a moment when he heard those words. Sacrifice. That word reverberated in his mind, bringing with it images of death, rituals and unimaginable pain.

- A sacrifice? - Vladimir asked, anger bubbling under his skin. For what?

Gideon squirmed, terrified.

- A power that has been here forever. Something this city has hidden under its rotten skin. It's not just ordinary violence, Vladimir. Them... they wanted something. And they succeeded. But the point is... at what price?

Vladimir gritted his teeth, his eyes dark as bottomless pits. The pieces were starting to fit together, but he didn't like the drawing he saw. Alina's murder had not been just an act of brutality. He was part of something bigger, something much more terrible.

"Tell me where Top Dollar is," Vladimir ordered, as the crow flew over Gideon's head as if ready to tear him apart if he didn't speak.

Gideon raised his hands in surrender.

- A club... a club in the center. "The Serpent." That's where he does his business. But be careful, Vladimir. If what they say is true, he's not the same man you knew. He's changed... and not for the better.

Vladimir turned around without saying another word, leaving Gideon and his fear behind. The crow cawed once more, and the spectral figure of Vladimir disappeared into the shadows of the city.

The Snake

The club "The Snake" was a place of doom in the darkest heart of the city. Surrounded by dilapidated buildings and alleys that smelled of death and despair, it was a place where the vilest and most despicable beings congregated to satiate their basest impulses. The music, a jarring mix of electronic beats, echoed like a rotten heartbeat, while the men and women entering the venue seemed to have souls as broken as the club itself.

Vladimir arrived at the entrance, his body covered by the shadows of the night. The doormen, two huge men who would normally have intimidated anyone else, stepped aside without saying a word, feeling the cold and ominous air emanating from him. I didn't need permission to enter. He was death made flesh.

Inside, the smoke and strobe lights gave the place a nightmarish atmosphere. The faces of the attendees were blurred masks of lust and despair, oblivious to Vladimir's presence, oblivious to the fact that a hunter had entered his lair.

But Vladimir wasn't there for them. His gaze searched the place, looking for only one person: Top Dollar. Whatever had changed in him, Vladimir would find out that very night.

An encounter with the devil

Top Dollar saw him approaching, and instead of fear, a crooked smile was drawn on his face. His eyes, injected with a feverish madness, shone with an unnatural light that did not belong to this world. It was as if something darker had awakened inside him, something that was writhing under the skin of this man who once led with iron fists. Now, she seemed like a creature caught between two realities, between the human and the inhuman.

"Vladimir Corvo," she pronounced his name in a raspy, mocking voice. I knew you'd be coming.

Vladimir stopped his step a few meters away from him, his eyes fixed on Top Dollar's. There was no fear in his gaze, only a deadly determination that radiated an unfathomable hatred. His revenge, his mission, had brought him this far, every last man on his list. But the truth that he had begun to discover weighed on him like another condemnation, a burden that he could not ignore.

—You were stalling—" Top Dollar continued, his laughter bubbling in his throat like the sound of a snake. What's the matter, Vladimir? Did you expect to find me the same as when we last met? Things change, man. I changed.

The raven cawed from the shadows, flapping its wings. I felt the darkness emanating from Top Dollar, a twisted and ancient energy. Vladimir did not immediately respond. She was watching him warily, trying to figure out what kind of monster the man who had destroyed her life was now. He wasn't just another killer. Something bigger and more sinister had touched him.

"You're nothing," Vladimir finally said, his voice filled with a cold, deadly calm. Just another dead body in my way.

Top Dollar let out a shrill laugh, tilting his head back. The men around him looked at him with fascination, as if they were witnessing a grotesque spectacle.

- Oh, Vladimir! - he exclaimed between laughs-. Do you really think this is just about revenge? To settle accounts? —His face suddenly darkened, and his eyes took on a sickly glow- You have no idea what's at stake here. It's not just your life or your dear Alina's life... it's something bigger. Something you can't even imagine.

Vladimir took a step forward, his jaw tense. He wasn't interested in Top Dollar's riddles or his mind games. He had come to settle scores, and that he would do, with or without answers.

—I don't care what you think this is," he growled, his fists clenching furiously. You will die for what you did.

But before he could move, Top Dollar raised a hand. The air around him seemed to vibrate, and an invisible force stopped him. The raven cawed frantically, flying in circles over Vladimir, who was struggling to move forward, but something was holding him in place.

"Not so fast," Top Dollar muttered, getting up from his makeshift throne. He approached with slow steps, observing Vladimir with a mixture of contempt and satisfaction-. You, Vladimir, are special. You're not like the others. -She leaned towards him, her eyes shining with that supernatural madness- You were chosen for this, the same as I was. We are part of something bigger, something that is above life and death.

Vladimir felt the rage growing inside him, fighting against the strange force that was holding him in place. His mind was swirling with Gideon's words, with the fragments of truth he had discovered. A sacrifice. An ancient power. But all this seemed irrelevant to the only truth that really mattered: Alina was dead. And Top Dollar had caused it.

With a scream of pure rage, Vladimir managed to break through the force that was holding him, throwing himself towards Top Dollar with inhuman speed. His hands, hardened by revenge, grabbed him by the neck, lifting him off the ground. Top Dollar looked at him, surprised, but not afraid. Her laughter, that sick laugh, filled the room.

—You can't stop what has already started, Vladimir—" she murmured as her eyes began to glow with an unearthly fire. This... it's already beyond you.

But Vladimir was not listening. The blood in his veins roared with uncontrollable fury. Top Dollar had become more than just a man, but that wouldn't save him. Nothing would. With a brutal move, he threw him against a wall, causing the man's body to impact with a dull, crunching sound. Top Dollar got up with difficulty, coughing up blood, but still smiling.

—You can't kill me, Vladimir—" he whispered, his voice distorted by the pain and power consuming him. Not the way you think.

Vladimir, impassively, watched him as Top Dollar staggered, trying to stay on his feet. The room, dark and desolate, seemed to be closing in on them, as if the shadows were accomplices of the coming violence. Vladimir did not answer. He just walked towards him, slow, relentless, with his gaze fixed on his prey.

"I can't die," gasped Top Dollar, smiling with bloody lips. Not when I've already transcended.

Vladimir did not say anything. He only held up the knife he had carried with him, that same knife he had used to avenge Alina on all the other murderers. And with a cold precision, he nailed it to the heart of Top Dollar.

Top Dollar's smile froze. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something else, but instead, his eyes went blank. The supernatural glow that had marked them disappeared in a sigh, and his body collapsed on the ground, inert.

The crow, perched on a beam, cawed one last time, as an omen that the hunt had come to an end. But Vladimir did not feel relief. The shadow of the truth Gideon had revealed to him still hung over him, and although Top Dollar was dead, something darker still lurked

The fog that won't dissipate

Vladimir left the club "The Snake", leaving behind the inert body of Top Dollar and the ghosts that now surrounded him even more densely and suffocatingly than before. The air smelled of blood and gunpowder, mixed with a perfume of decomposition that the city could not wash away. The raindrops hit the ground like small bullets, each one a warning, a reminder that revenge, although fulfilled, did not bring peace.

The raven was flying in circles over his head, its black gaze like emptiness riveted on Vladimir, as if sharing his desolation. Every step she took, every corner of the city she crossed, she seemed to shout Alina's name. The faces of the men he had killed appeared in his mind, one by one, whispers of lives brutally taken. But no death had eased the pain, none had erased the abyss that had opened in his chest the night the only person he loved was taken from him.

The water that fell on his face did not wash away the tears, because he could no longer cry. There were no more tears in him, just a dark and deep emptiness that enveloped him more and more. He was a broken soul, a man transformed into a spectre of justice, or perhaps of chaos. The line between the two concepts blurred more with each death he carried in his hands.

"Alina," he murmured in whispers as the cold wind cut through his words. The city returned him only silence. The distant lights of the cars and the shadows that crept into the alleys looked like ghosts that mocked him, as if they knew that peace would never be theirs, not really.

The crow cawed, breaking the stillness. Vladimir looked up, his eyes dark and heavy with fury mixed with mute despair. He knew what was coming. I knew that even the death of Top Dollar wasn't the end. Something bigger, something darker, was hovering over him. The revelation Gideon had dropped, like an omen, still resonated in his bones.

It wasn't just revenge. It had never been just that. There were deeper forces at play, things his mind still couldn't fathom. Something evil, ancient, was pulling the strings of the tragedy that surrounded him, and he was just a puppet in that macabre dance.

Vladimir stopped at a corner, watching the endless stream of life in the city that continued, indifferent to the suffering and blood that permeated his bowels. What was the point of going on? What could he find beyond revenge?

The crow flew to a nearby lamppost, bowing his head, as if waiting for a decision. As if he were a watcher in the shadows, a silent witness to the actions of a man condemned to walk between the living and the dead.

Vladimir took a deep breath. He couldn't stop. The truth haunted him, and although the blood of his enemies had stained his hands, the fire that burned in his soul was not extinguished. And as long as that fire persisted, he would keep hunting. There was still a long way to go, an abyss of pain and destruction that had not yet reached the bottom.

He was lost in the shadows, once again merging with the darkness that had claimed him as one of its own. The city was sleeping, but he wasn't. The night was still calling him.

And the raven, always nearby, watched the path that stretched out before him, a path where forgiveness did not exist and redemption was nothing but a mirage.