Chapter 4: Step Into The Darkness

"Pipsqueak, pass the man to us. You don't need to meddle in such matters, be blind and the lord will spare you from us. We don't want collateral. But don't force our fucking hands." One of the men from the gang spoke out in a gruff tone, as his father fingers curled to form large fists that seemed to be capable of breaking bones in one hit and was probably used to crush windpipes, a man highly dangerous.

Alongside being highly unpredictable.

"A feral dog, without a leash...." Samara thought, narrowing his eyes and helped the bleeding man stand upright. Giving him a white napkin, which he had took from one of his classmates during picnic, and the man nodded with gratitude, and a tensed look appeared on his seemingly pale visage.

"Kid, please. You will get injured." The injured man said with a violent cough, as he covered his lips and Samara barely gave him a glance. He seemed to be thinking something. Calculating scenarios.

"Four men, a feral dog as their leader and a tight bond....Break the common point, and the whole link breaks into fine fragments, that point is the feral dog." Samara thought, as he breathed in slowly and the muscles in his limbs started to coil in preparation. He was ready to spring and set the plan in motion, but he wasn't going to attack soon, baiting the feral dog was necessary.

Otherwise the group would crash upon him as if waves of the ocean, he couldn't risk mindless attack. He never did that. Always plotting on various forms, before throwing the first punch, he wanted to win in brawls, for that surgical precision was required.

"Your words amuse me. Crude language because your other capabilities are so little. You're just a wannabe aren't you? A man who tries to make himself big by lowering others, but in truth.... You are just a feral dog." Samara spoke out, his tone almost bored, and he crossed his arms over his chest with a tilt of his head.

Waiting, he was waiting for the dog to rise to his bait. And true to his thinking, the bait was taken fast, as blood rushed up to the feral man's scarred visage and his fangs emerged.

"You.... MOTHERFUCKER!" The feral dog screamed, as he didn't even think about giving orders to his companions and rushed alone. Pouncing upon the younger boy, a vague smirk appeared on Samara's face and he quickly dodged to the side.

The punch of the feral dog made even the air shiver, as the injured man huddled close to the damp walls of the alleyway, looking with awe at the boy's reaction.

"Just like I thought, mindless and a feral being. Blessed with strength yet no knowledge. Easy." Samara thought, as he quickly dodged another hook, his heart beat raced and he felt delighted.

A rush enveloped him. This always happened during his fights. He enjoyed dominating and winning, that is why it happens.

A punch grazed his stomach, and Samara's eyes momentarily widened, even though the man couldn't touch him. He could feel the strength hidden in those fists. He needed to end it fast.

Otherwise he may lose. A breath was taken and he appeared behind the feral dog, his eyes glowing with adrenaline and a breath was quickly released.

"I need to kill him. Before he kills me." The brain of Samara suddenly responded, as his instincts surged and his eyes widened at the action he was going to take. His body was already in motion to follow his brain's command.

Forearms wrapped around the ox-like throat from the back, as Samara drew in hefty amounts of breath, falling behind alongside the feral man. One forearm completely wrapped around, and the other holding his opposite wrist, to tighten more.

The group of thugs and the injured man started with horror alongside fascination, respectively, yet no one could do anything. Even if they tried, they would only be met with loss, it was a loss-loss situation in short.

For Samara, as if merged with the spirit of a serpent, was leaning against one of the walls of they alley, his teeth gritted and he applied greater and greater pressure.

"Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL!" His thoughts raged in the form of a wild fire, as he continued to breathed heavily, and the feral man clawed at the arms constricted. But due to shortness of breath and drool leaving his mouth, he couldn't do anything.....His eyes rolled back and nearly came out of his sockets, as his tongue lolled out and he couldn't even release a scream. Silence greeted the darkened corners which bare witness to the loss of innocence, done willingly and by calculating the possible consequences.

It was a precise decision taken in an instant, not a decision taken in haste, and Samara released the breath he was holding in. As he breathed heavily and his forearms loosened.

The feral plopped down upon the pavement—holes with puddle and spit laying here and there, along with trash cans overflowing with rubbish. But now, there was a corpse, whose jeans had been filed with yellow fluid, and the smell snapped all the men present back to their senses.

The group of thugs quickly fled with fright and wrath, as the injured man turned to the still-sitting Samara, who looked down at the corpse just lying there with shock. It was a calculated decision. But even he was shocked by his ruthlessness....

---

At that time, I didn't know. But the first steps towards darkness had been taken. A darkness that later forged my empire. After all, every Conglomerate has done his sins, and that was one of mine. The sin of being the judge and the executioner.

I am the 'Lord Of Money', 'Conglomerate Emperor' and many others titles have been accepted, yet at that time I was nothing but darkness... Nothing else. But I am not regretful, it was quite necessary. For that darkness, unleashed the sun, and now I rule the light, and all that which comes under it. Even the shadows that no one sees, the shadows the surface fears, even that I control.

Cheers to my past. And cheers to evolution.

---

"Thank you." The once-injured man spoke softly, as he cradled a cup of water between his calloused-scarred palms, and flinched at the pain still present due to the wound on his abdomen, which emerged yet again after he chugged the water. Soothing his parched throat and he released a sigh of slight relief.

The chase had made him tired, like a lot.

Samara leaned against the dark kitchen counter, looking at the man with narrowed eyes and his rate of breathing was slow. Controlled. His visage was absolutely calm. Nothing going inside came to the surface.

Absolute control.

The elderly man stared up towards those nonchalant eyes, and felt weird, eyes were always said to be the entrance towards the soul. But this boy was hiding it quite well. His eyes were just veil.

Either he truly felt nothing or he was too good at acting.

"Who are you?" Samara finally broke his vow of silence after a few more seconds of just staring at each other, his tone flat and deep, no emotion.

The man was silent for a few minutes, and he was clearly hesitant, then he spoke out. "I am Antony Brasan. Once upon a time, a member of the Skull Crusher Gang, and now a runner." He held the brown box close to his chest and slowly told Samara, the reality of his identity.

Samara just blinked a couple of times. Then he thought. "WHAT IN THE HOLY HEAVENS IS HAPPENING TODAY?!"