Chapter 51 – Broadcast to the End
Kevin didn’t quit.
He showed up the next day at the office.
Buttoned-up shirt. Shaky hands. Fake smile glued to a broken face.
The meeting room buzzed—Derek laughing with the new recruits, Lily sitting with perfect posture at the end of the table, the boss beaming like a rotten sun.
Kevin sat there. Listening. Nodding.
Inside?
He was bleeding out.
Every report Derek got praised for was one Kevin ghostwrote.
Every smile Lily gave another man drove a knife deeper into the ribs he barely held together.
The boss spoke about new directions. About loyalty. About trust.
And Kevin—
Kevin cracked.
He stood up. Chair clattering backwards, silence slicing the room open.
He crossed the table in three strides.
And punched the fat bastard straight in the jaw.
The boss fell like a tower of lies, gasping like a wounded hog.
Kevin didn’t stop.
Not at first.
Two punches. Three. His fists hurt. His knuckles split.
Fucker, Kevin thought.
Only when security dragged him away did he stop struggling.
Only when they threw him out the door did he realize he wasn’t just fired.
He was erased.
He tried to find another job.
God, he tried.
Walking into offices with a smile stapled onto a corpse.
Filling out applications with trembling hands.
Waiting in plastic chairs as they "considered" him.
Each rejection came colder than the last.
Not qualified.
Bad reputation.
Toxic workplace history.
They didn’t say blacklisted.
They didn’t have to.
Kevin sold everything.
His suits. His laptop.
Even his old medals from school.
Rented a closet-sized apartment.
Set up a cardboard desk.
And made Kevin Media.
One man.
One dream.
Zero views.
Weeks passed.
He shouted into the void.
No one listened.
One night, he stared at his cracked phone, watching Derek and Lily smile on national broadcasts.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Drinking wine with senators.
Interviewing celebrities.
Shining like they hadn’t eaten someone alive to get there.
He stared until the screen blurred, the light burning into his skull.
Then—
The news.
Massive military movement.
Top secret.
No press allowed.
Every network whispered about danger.
Forbidden zones.
And of course—Lily was leading the broadcast.
She was going to spin the lie before he even got a foot in.
Kevin needed something else.
Something raw.
Something real.
The phone call was short.
A single voice answered.
Old friend. Criminal connections.
Didn’t care who he screwed over.
Kevin swallowed.
“Can you get me a military bird?”
Static. Then a laugh.
“Can you get me fifty grand?”
Kevin closed his eyes.
“…Yes.”
He begged. Borrowed.
Didn’t steal—
Only because there was nothing left worth stealing.
He pawned memories.
Sold his future.
Bet his soul.
And when it was done?
He stood in front of a fake military helicopter, stitched together from lies and desperation.
Dust-covered. Second-hand.
A camera slung across his chest like a noose.
The sky bled gray.
The air smelled like gunpowder and frozen fear.
Kevin gritted his teeth.
Climbed in.
The bird lifted.
Joined the real convoy headed toward the Arctic.
Steel and cold fire stretched beneath him.
And deep in his gut, Kevin knew—
This was it.
The camera whirred.
The stream blinked on.
At first?
Three viewers.
Then thirty.
Then three thousand.
Then—
BOOM.
The world caught fire.
Kevin Media exploded across every screen.
Phones buzzed. Tablets screamed.
Newsrooms froze mid-sentence.
In a smoky glass building downtown, Derek and Lily stood side-by-side, staring at Kevin’s trembling face—broadcast across the plasma wall.
Lily cursed. Stormed out for a smoke.
Derek just watched.
Silent.
Burning.
Kevin narrated.
Voice shaking. But unbreakable.
“And here—here’s what they don’t want you to see—”
The frozen battlefield stretched like a graveyard of broken gods.
Soldiers moved like ants.
The air turned black.
And from it—
Belzeebub descended.
Not a man.
Not a demon.
A crawling abomination of six gleaming eyes.
Wings made of silk and bone.
A body stitched from nightmares.
The soldiers didn’t fight.
They screamed.
They ran.
Kevin kept recording.
Even when the first tank disintegrated into red mist.
Even when the sky cracked.
Even when men died in droves.
His hand shook.
He didn’t blink.
Didn’t pray.
He recorded.
Above it all—
Belphegor.
Elegant. Untouchable.
White coat lined with golden veins.
Eyes calm like a king, a surgeon, a god.
He raised one hand.
And gravity died.
Ships flipped.
Tanks collapsed into scrap.
Men flew into the sky, screaming.
The Earth cracked and whimpered.
Kevin’s feed stuttered.
The world screamed with him.
Kevin’s helicopter tore apart.
Metal shrieked.
Rotors snapped.
He fell.
Not gracefully.
Not heroically.
Just a man in a dying machine.
And still—
He filmed.
He streamed.
He witnessed.
He hit the water.
Cold. Bone-breaking. Lung-crushing.
The helicopter shattered.
He clawed onto floating wreckage.
Gasping.
Teeth chattering.
Still holding the camera.
Still live.
Still broadcasting.
Above him, the demons vanished.
Ash dragged between them, unconscious.
The battlefield emptied.
Only Kevin remained.
Floating.
Alive.
Victorious.
And for the first time in a long, long time—
The world saw him.
End of Chapter 51 – Broadcast to the End
