10. The First Act of Revenge

The night was cold, the air thick with the scent of damp concrete and old garbage. Streetlights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows over the narrow alley. Somewhere far away, the hum of the city continued, oblivious to what was happening in this forgotten corner of the world.

Ethan stood in the darkness, his hood pulled low over his face, watching.

The boy in front of him had no idea what was coming.

Jake.

One of them.

One of the boys who had laughed while Ethan had screamed.

One of the boys who had kicked him, spat on him, broken him.

Ethan's fingers twitched.

His body thrummed with something new, something cold and powerful.

And tonight, he would use it.

Jake was leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone, oblivious. He wasn't afraid. He had no reason to be.

Because in his mind—Ethan was dead.

Ethan took a step forward.

The faint scuff of his shoe against the ground was enough to snap Jake's attention up.

"Who's there?" Jake's voice was sharp, but Ethan could hear the slight quiver beneath it.

Ethan didn't answer.

He let the silence stretch, let the fear creep in.

Jake frowned and took a step back, his head tilting as he peered into the darkness. "Yo, if this is some joke—"

Then he saw them.

The eyes.

Glowing red in the darkness like dying embers.

Jake froze.

His breath caught in his throat.

A tremor ran through his body.

"No…"

The word barely left his lips.

His phone slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground.

"Y-you're d-dead—"

Ethan took another step forward.

Then another.

With every step, Jake's fear grew.

His heartbeat—fast, erratic, pounding like a war drum.

He tried to move, but his back was already against the brick wall.

There was nowhere to go.

"No, no, no…" Jake's voice broke. "This—this isn't real—"

Ethan didn't stop.

Didn't blink.

Didn't speak.

Because he wanted Jake to feel it.

The same helplessness.

The same dread.

The same suffocating terror he had felt that night.

Jake's breathing turned ragged. His hands clawed at the wall behind him.

And Ethan could hear it.

The moment it happened.

The moment the fear sank in.

The moment Jake knew there was no escape.

That he was trapped.

Ethan raised his hand.

Jake flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

But Ethan didn't touch him.

He didn't need to.

Because the power inside him didn't just live in his body.

It lived in his mind.

And now—

It would live in Jake's.

A dark pulse spread from Ethan's fingers, unseen but suffocating, like icy tendrils wrapping around Jake's skull.

And then—

Jake's mind broke.

He was there.

Back in that abandoned dormitory.

Back in that nightmare.

But this time—Jake was the one on the floor.

His ribs ached.

His skin burned.

The kicks rained down on him—relentless, merciless, bone-crushing.

Laughter echoed around him.

Mocking.

Cruel.

It filled his ears.

"You're nothing."

"You're weak."

"No one will ever care about you."

Jake tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't obey.

The pain was overwhelming—too much.

His chest tightened.

His breath shook.

He gasped, clawing at the air—drowning.

And for the first time in his life—

Jake understood.

He felt it.

The agony.

The helplessness.

The sheer, soul-crushing despair.

His real body convulsed in the alley, his hands clawing at his scalp, desperate to escape the torment inside his mind.

But there was no escape.

Because Ethan wouldn't let him wake up.

Not yet.

Not until he had suffered.

Not until he had broken.

Jake's screams shattered the silence.

His body twitched violently, his face streaked with tears.

His lips trembled. His chest heaved.

His real voice whimpered—small, weak, shattered.

"Please… please… s-stop…"

Ethan watched.

His hands clenched.

His breath was slow, steady.

He thought it would feel good.

To see one of them crawl.

To see one of them plead.

But all he felt was… nothing.

Jake was pathetic.

So weak.

Was this really one of the boys who had beaten him?

Who had kicked his ribs, laughed as he bled, called him worthless?

Ethan took a step closer, crouching beside Jake's trembling form.

Jake's body flinched.

Ethan leaned in.

His breath was cold against Jake's ear.

"You took everything from me."

Jake choked on a sob.

His head barely shook, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

Ethan's crimson eyes darkened.

"Now it's your turn."

With a flick of his fingers—

Jake's nightmare ended.

His body collapsed instantly, crumpling like a ragdoll onto the cold, wet pavement.

His eyes—empty.

His face—drenched in sweat, his breath coming in short, gasping cries.

But he didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't even scream.

Because Jake was broken.

The first domino had fallen.

Ethan stood up, staring down at the empty shell of the boy who had once tormented him.

He should have felt victory.

He should have felt satisfaction.

But all he felt was… hollow.

Like something inside him was missing.

Like he was still standing in that alley, but part of him had never left that dormitory.

The system's voice slithered into his mind, smooth, pleased.

"The first step is complete."

Ethan didn't respond.

He simply turned, stepping over Jake's trembling form and vanishing into the night.

Tomorrow, the next would fall.