A thousand questions juggled inside his mind, but only one could escape his throat. A single, confused, “What…?”

  Jacob didn't expect him to understand right away. Honestly, it was more of a cry out than a confession.

  He wiped his tears, the moisture cool against his reddened cheeks, sniffing the remains of his snot. As he did, a few passing students still lingering in the halls glanced over at the two before Akuma scared them off with a cold glare.

  “Do you remember that guy from the alley?” Jacob asked Akuma, trying to relax his breathing. His voice came out smaller than he intended, almost childlike in a way.

  Akuma's eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly.

  “Huh?” he instantly replied, his focus shifting back from the passing, lost student. “Oh, yeah. That thug guy, right?”

  The term “thug” echoed inside Jacob’s head. To him, it was a label that felt… unfair.

  “Yes... His name is Donte. And we used to go to school together.”

  His fingers absently traced a scratch on the nearby locker door as he turned to it.

  “Actually, I used to go to school with all of those students from D12. Mr. Allen was our teacher then too. My guess is that he must've been reassigned to high school last second.”

  Akuma froze for a moment, unsure what exactly to say. Should he comfort him? Maybe a “Well, you'll be safe with me”? Or perhaps a hug would work?

  “Back then, things were pretty much the same as you saw earlier. Everyone laughing together like one big family...”

  Jacob's voice started to sound distant, as if he were speaking from the bottom of a well.

  “Except, I wasn't a part of it... I was a transfer student. I'd transferred from a private school because of my parents' job. That was no big shock though. Not the first time I was forced to move schools... But none of it could've prepared me for that.”

  His body started shaking, his trembling, crossed arms clenched against his sides.

  “Somehow, they ended up finding out my parents had a lot of money. Mr. Allen must've been the one who told them...”

  Akuma leaned against the lockers beside Jacob, their shoulders almost touching.

  “What exactly did they do to you...?”

  Jacob's fingers clenched at his sides even tighter, his nails biting into his arms. He'd almost fallen back to tears just thinking about it, the familiar ache spreading through his chest.

  “For middle schoolers, they were pretty good at making me hate myself.” He answered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Calling me a girl over and over. Sometimes even 'Miss. Trust Fund'. They'd push things off my desk just to watch me pick them up, like I was some kind of circus show. If I was unlucky enough to be caught without any teachers around, that's when they'd give me the worst of it. Especially the girls... They acted like I chose to look this way!”

  The bell rang suddenly, making Jacob flinch. His shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow. By the time the ringing stopped, the hallway was empty except for the two of them.

  “...But you know. The worst part wasn't the physical stuff. It was the moments where conversations would stop when I walked through the halls. Lunch tables would clear out. Even other classes would join in on it, because they knew if they cozied up to me, then they'd be next.”

  Akuma's hand hovered near Jacob's shoulder for a moment before dropping back to his side.

  “And what about Donte? Was he in on it too?”

  For a moment, Jacob hesitated, his mind still caught on the term “thug”.

  “Not quite...” He reluctantly replied. “He was a transfer student, like me. He came a month after the bullying really started getting to me... If I'm being honest, he's the only reason I had the strength to keep going.”

  Akuma raised a curious but confused brow. Jacob's words didn't match the tone or memory of the alley incident. The short-tempered, rage-filled Donte they'd encountered seemed worlds away from the person Jacob was describing.

  After rubbing his arm to calm himself as he sorted the memories, Jacob continued.

  “You see... Donte was the first person to talk to me.”

  For a heartbeat, a genuine smile crossed Jacob's face.

  “Back then he had an innocent, caring smile. A goofy grin he'd wear wherever he went.”

  A memory flashed through Jacob's mind with vivid clarity. Donte standing in front of him, lunch tray in hand, deliberately sitting at Jacob's empty table when everyone else had moved away.

  “Hey, ya mind if I sit here? These other tables are full of jerks.” He'd said with that same grin, as if the two were already best friends.

  A faint smile crept across Jacob's lips as he reminisced.

  “I remember once, when they knocked my books into a puddle outside, Donte helped me dry them, page by page. He just sat there with me for hours, talking about manga while we carefully separated the wet pages… Naturally, they started bullying him too. They called him all sorts of names and would throw his stuff in the trash. Apparently, his dad was really rich too... And yet, despite it all... He always kept smiling. He was like an immovable shield. Protecting me from the other kids... I respected him... A lot. I wanted to be just like him. To be as strong as him...”

  Jacob's expression darkened, as he finished.

  “…Until, that day.”

  “What happened?” Akuma asked, shifting his gaze as he sensed the shift in tension.

  Jacob's fingers unconsciously reached for his own neck, as if searching for something that wasn't there.

  “Back then, Donte always carried a pendant with him. I remember it being silver, shaped like a… crescent moon with tiny stars engraved on it. He told me it was a memento from his dying mother. Anytime he'd get bullied, he would hold the pendant tightly and somehow get the strength needed to keep going... That's when a couple of the other kids got the bright idea to take it from him. I remember their faces, how they... How they laughed when they tossed it into the lake by our school...”

  For some reason, Akuma thought back on the adult lady from his past. How she’d often smile at him, telling him never to hate people.

  “He spent the entire day looking for it. He didn’t care how filthy the water was. Or how dark it got. His clothes were soaked, his hands bleeding from feeling through rocks and mud… But he could never find it. To make things worse, the next day, Mr. Allen suspended him for leaving school grounds without permission.”

  “The teacher knew what happened?”

  “Everyone knew about it.”

  Jacob's voice trembled as he continued, like he was on the verge of more tears.

  “Of course, during the week he was gone, I went back to being victim number one. But I powered through it. I endured it because I knew Donte would come back... And after a week, he did… But something was different about him. His eyes were... empty. And his smile had completely darkened… It didn't matter what they said, if someone even opened their mouth around him, he'd beat them until they couldn't talk anymore.”

  In that moment, Akuma’s eyes widened. He thought about himself. His past. His present. Possibly even his future. What would he do in such a situation? Would he just fight everyone in his direction? What about his pendant? How would losing something that precious make him feel? Maybe he’d know the answer to that if he had a mother of his own.

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  “The same hands that carefully dried my books page by page were suddenly breaking fingers and blackening eyes.” Jacob continued, his gaze shifted to the brightening windows. “It got so bad that he was eventually expelled from the school… That's why I couldn't face him in the alley.”

  Akuma shrugged.

  “You can't blame yourself for that. It wasn't your fault–”

  “It was my fault!”

  Jacob's shout echoed through the empty hallway, startling both him and Akuma.

  “I saw them take his pendant. I saw them planning it the day before. They were right in front of me, laughing about how they'd 'break his smile once and for all.”

  Jacob's hands trembled as he covered his face.

  “But instead of warning him, I just stayed quiet... I could have told him to leave it at home that day. I could have told a teacher. I could have done anything…! The truth is... I didn't want to be bullied again. Deep down... Deep down... I was happy that Donte became their number one target.”

  Silence filled the hallway. A clock ticked somewhere in the distance, marking the seconds after Jacob's confession. Akuma turned one again and leaned over beside him, their shoulders touching. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just provided the solid warmth of another person.

  “I see… So that’s your story… And I’m guessing you’re scared they’ll pick up where they left off.”

  “Yes. I am.”

  Akuma paused, trying to find the right words.

  “Hey, Jacob. Do you want to know why I sometimes call myself God?”

  Jacob turned to him, tears streaking his face.

  “Why?”

  “People often say the best heroes are the ones who can pull off the impossible… If you ask me. There’s no one better for the job…”

  Akuma's eyes held a fire that reminded Jacob of Donte’s.

  “…Than God himself.”

  The morning sunlight stretched across the floor toward them, not quite reaching where they stood in shadow. And yet, his back radiated a brightness unlike anything Jacob had ever seen.

  “Give me three days. After three days, I can guarantee… You’ll have the experience of a lifetime.”

  Akuma marched back to the door of D12. As he did, he felt a strange, giddy feeling. He had a plan. A plan big enough to change Jacob’s destiny.

  “Wait a sec!” Jacob shouted, rushing over to Akuma.

  He caught his sleeve right before Akuma reached the door. Then he slipped something in his pocket.

  “I don’t know what you plan on doing, but before you do, I have to tell you something I always wanted to say… Akuma. You’re always so nice to me, and you you’re always helping me. After middle school I was pretty lonely. I mean I had Ely, sure, but he’s just a kid… But that all changed when I met you. Another boy my age, who was just as lonely as I was. It made me happier than you even realize… Look, ah. What I’m trying to say… Is thank you, Akuma! …You changed my life.”

  Without waiting for Akuma to give a reply he ran off. Akuma turned his head, his eyes a perfect blend of surprised and gratefulness.

  “Also, if you ask me, I’d say Akuma Tiryns is much better for the job.” He added, momentarily stopping before running off again.

  Akuma stared down the hall for a moment, then shifted his gaze back to the D12 door. He placed his hand on the cool metal handle, feeling its smooth surface against his palm. As he pushed the door open, the sounds of teenage chatter leaked through. Laughter. A couple phone notifications. Even the scrape of a chair against the floor.

  The creaking hinge cut through the classroom noise like scissors through paper. Conversations stumbled to a halt. Thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward him, some curious, others already dismissive.

  Akuma glanced around, taking note of anyone that stood out to him. Only three did.

  The first was a student he’d seen this morning, tossing a football with a few friends. He was lounged casually on his desk near the window, his broad shoulders straining against his letter jacket.

  The second was a girl. A gyaru type to be specific, sitting near the left-center. He was a bit surprised to see one in person.

  Acrylic nails tapped at her phone, the light from the screen illuminating her face with a blue glow. She glanced up at him through mascara-heavy lashes, a flicker of interest crossing her face.

  And then there was Mr. Allen, standing at the front of the room. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead beneath his messy hair, and the tired lines around his eyes deepened as Akuma’s eyes caught his.

  “You're late, Mr. Tiryns.” Mr. Allen said, his fingers nervously adjusting the stack of paper in his hands.

  The tension in the room shifted. Students who had written Akuma off with indifference now turned their gaze with renewed interest, eager for the drama of a first-day confrontation.

  Akuma broke out into a gentle smile, his shoulders slumping slightly in a perfect performance of nervousness.

  “S-Sorry about that. I got kinda lost on the way. I guess this school’s bigger than I thought it was.”

  Mr. Allen's eyes briefly darted to the hallway behind Akuma. Perhaps he was looking for Jacob, or perhaps he was simply avoiding the intensity that still burned beneath Akuma's feigned nervousness. After all, he alone knew how terrifying he could be.

  “Ordinarily, you'd have to return with a late pass… But since this is the first day, come on in.”

  He gestured toward the back of the room. Specifically, to the two empty seats behind the football-tossing guy from earlier.

  “Those seats over there should be available.”

  As he passed Mr. Allen, Akuma let his mask slip just enough, just for a second. It flashed in the form of sharp, cold eyes.

  “Thanks for being so understanding... Mr. Allen.”

  He held Mr. Allen's gaze just long enough to see the first bead of sweat roll down the man's temple.

  As Akuma passed by the gyaru girl's desk, the tapping of her acrylic nails stopped.

  He turned to her, thinking a genuine smile would be fitting. Her cheeks flushed pink beneath her makeup, the color spreading to the tips of her ears. Her lip gloss glistened as she parted her lips slightly, forgetting momentarily about her phone, which now lay face-down on her desk. Should she introduce herself? Or maybe wait until later.

  “Unfortunately, you missed the introductions, Mr. Tiryns...” Mr. Allen's voice wavered slightly, the words coming out with forced casualness.

  Another bead of sweat traced a path down to his collar, darkening the fabric where it was absorbed.

  “But I hope that you can still introduce yourself. You know. Full name, hobbies, goals.”

  Standing at the back of the room now—by the front, available desk—Akuma took a deep breath. Normally, he’d be feeling sharp nervousness right now. Maybe even puke at the fact that he had a wooden desk. Instead, he felt… eager in a sense.

  “Good morning, class…” He greeted, his voice clear and confident, filling the room without effort. “My name is Akuma Tiryns… I like to read manga, watch anime, and train sometimes. Believe it or not, this is my first time attending school, so I hope you will show me what it's about.”

  The classroom held its collective breath. Even Mr. Allen seemed transfixed. All the same, Akuma kept his composure.

  “And my goals... Let's see...”

  Akuma's lips curved into a smile, Jacob’s words coming back to him.

  (Sorry Jacob. But I’m not quite there yet…)

  “I suppose... One day… I'm gonna become God.”

  The heavy scent of cigars and expensive cologne clung to the air, almost suffocatingly. The room exuded authority and power, and I mean that in the truest sense of the words. Everything from the blood-red walls adorned with photographs of fallen gang members to the stacks of cash carelessly scattered across the polished marble floor.

  Seated on a leather sofa worth more than most men’s yearly salaries, a younger guy perched like the king of a domain. Gold chains draped his broad chest, glinting each time he shifted. To his left and right, two women lounged against him, their manicured fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his fur coat.

  Kneeling before him, their forehead nearly pressed to the floor, was his son, Donte.

  Two men flanked Donte. One casually puffed a cigarette, releasing wisps of gray that curled like ghosts toward the ceiling. The other nursed his broken hand, the bruised skin barely concealed beneath a bloodied cloth.

  “So let me get this straight…”

  The boss’s voice was deep, a bit slow, and carrying the weight of barely restrained rage.

  “Not only did you let some kid humiliate you, and Tobi, but you had the balls to run away too? Who the hell do you think you are, huh? You trying to ruin my good name?!”

  The women beside him giggled behind their condescending hands.

  Donte swallowed hard, his face burning with shame. He dared not lift his gaze.

  “N-No, Boss. T-This guy… He wasn’t normal.”

  “Yeah, I can see that, dumbass.” Donte’s father scoffed, slouching even farther.

  With a resigned sigh, he exhaled a stream of smoke.

  “Ezekiel.” He called out, turning to his right-hand man. “You find out which gang this kid belongs to?”

  Ezekiel removed the cigar from his lips and exhaled.

  “About that… There’s no background, Boss. Kid came out of nowhere. No affiliations, no connections. Nothing.”

  “An enigma, huh…”

  A slow, predatory grin spread across the boss’s face. He shifted once again, the leather groaning beneath him.

  “Then his disappearance won’t raise any alarms, will it?”

  Donte’s heart slammed against his ribs as his father extended a sleek black pistol toward him. The metal was cold, lifeless, and yet it seemed to pulse with an unspoken command.

  “You know what to do.”

  But when he lifted his gaze, the scenery around him had transitioned instantly. The voices of his father and the others became muffled, as if heard through water. And a cold sweat broke across Donte's forehead as his reality was flipped upside down. His father's personal chamber had been replaced by a vast emptiness that stretched endlessly in all directions. The leather sofa was gone, and seated before him was not the same intimidating figure he'd known all his life. Rather, a figure cloaked in darkness that seemed to absorb what little light radiated behind him. He seated comfortably on a pile of corpses—demons of various sizes. His wrists were connected by a heavy chain long enough to dip down to his heels. And he had two massive wings, faded with murky black.

  Donte’s eyes widened as his gaze met the angel’s pale hollow eyes.

  Then, a raspy, old voice released from the prisoned angel.

  “Do you want power, child?”

  Donte was rendered speechless.

  “I asked you a question. Do you wish for the power to destroy those who look down on you? To erase their smiles and their future? To rid the world of their ugliness? …Do you wish to show them a fraction of the pain she went through?”

  The image of a bedridden woman flashed through Donte’s mind. Specifically, her frail and withered hands clenched between his and the loud, infuriating peep of the life support machine. As well as a fancy pendant she often wore.

  Sensing the answer deep within him, the decaying angel reached out his palm.

  “Then accept my power, boy… The power to kill God.”

  Donte reached out, his fingers trembling. The sensory suddenly shifted back to his father’s room and his hands were curled around the handle of a gun. Then a cold smile tugged at his lips.

  “Yes, Boss.”