The night was still and quiet, but it didn’t last. The moment the High Rise Devil descended on Mike's home, the silence shattered like glass. His wings beat through the air with monstrous force, the gusts rattling the windows. Mike, barely able to catch his breath after the horrors of the previous night, thought he was safe. But the nightmare was far from over.

  The High Rise Devil had found him.

  With a deafening crash, the creature smashed through the back door, splintering wood and glass in an explosion of destruction. There was no attempt at stealth; the very air seemed to tremble with every step he took. His wings unfurled, dark feathers scraping against the walls as he moved through the house, tearing apart everything in his path. Furniture was flung across rooms, picture frames shattered, and the floors buckled under his immense weight. The house, once a sanctuary, had become a crumbling ruin under the devil's wrath.

  Mike scrambled out of bed, heart pounding with terror. The crash and chaos from downstairs told him exactly who had arrived. He could hear the High Rise Devil’s monstrous movements—deep growls and the cracking of walls as the creature methodically destroyed the house. There was no escape through the windows; he was trapped.

  Desperation fueled Mike’s actions. His hands shook as he fumbled through the drawer, grabbing the shotgun he’d hidden there. It felt cold and foreign in his grip, but it was all he had left. His mind screamed for him to think, but terror clouded his judgment, turning every second into an eternity. He moved with jerky, panicked motions, heading for the door.

  Every step toward the exit felt like it would be his last. The sound of the High Rise Devil’s footsteps was so heavy that it reverberated through the entire house. It was coming closer. Mike’s breath caught in his throat as the footsteps grew louder, louder still, until the devil was just outside the door. Time was running out.

  The door rattled under the weight of the monster’s presence. Mike’s chest tightened with fear, the world narrowing down to the sound of the heavy breathing just beyond the door. There was no choice now. His hand tightened around the shotgun, and without thinking, he kicked the door open with all the strength he could muster. The blast of the shotgun echoed through the house like thunder, the force of the shot pushing the High Rise Devil back. The creature staggered, its massive body reeling from the impact as blood splattered against the walls. For one fleeting moment, Mike allowed himself to feel something—hope.

  That hope was short-lived.

  The devil’s eyes flared crimson, glowing with a deep, unrelenting fury. Its mouth curled into a snarl, and its wounded chest began to shimmer and twitch unnaturally. Mike froze, heart racing as the creature's body seemed to defy the laws of nature. Wounds that should have left it writhing in agony began to heal at an unnatural speed. The torn flesh and shattered bones were slowly pulled back together, twisting and reforming with sickening snaps. The shotgun blast had done nothing. The High Rise Devil was healing, regenerating like it was nothing more than a toy being reassembled.

  The moment the creature’s body was whole again, it stood taller, more imposing, and more monstrous than before. Mike's blood ran cold. The sheer power radiating from the creature made him feel small, insignificant. The house, his once-quiet refuge, was now nothing more than the stage for an inevitable confrontation.

  With a frantic gasp, Mike turned and bolted for the hallway. Every nerve screamed at him to run, to get away, but his legs felt like they were moving through quicksand. The High Rise Devil’s growls reverberated through the house, and Mike could feel its footsteps, heavy and calculated, following closely behind. The walls seemed to close in on him as the devil's wings scraped the sides of the house with terrifying force. His heart hammered against his ribcage, a frantic rhythm that matched the pounding footsteps behind him.

  He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough. And yet, as he rounded the corner toward the front door, he found himself still desperate for escape, clawing for freedom. His hand fumbled for the keys in his pocket, each second feeling like a year as the creature’s growls grew closer, the shadows in the hallway growing darker, more suffocating.

  Finally, his fingers found the cold metal of the keys, and he shoved them into the door’s lock. He barely had time to yank the door open before he was running again, out into the cold night air, feet pounding across the jagged glass and debris scattered across the driveway. The High Rise Devil’s wings beat the air with terrifying speed, but this time, Mike didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to. He just had to get away.

  With a final, frantic burst of energy, Mike dove into his car, slamming the door shut behind him. He barely registered the engine roaring to life, his hands shaking as he threw the car into drive. Tires screeched as the car tore down the empty street, the sound of the High Rise Devil's wings echoing behind him. Each beat of the creature’s wings pressed down on Mike like a vice, suffocating him, dragging him into the depths of panic.

  He glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The High Rise Devil was still there—just behind, but for some strange reason, it wasn’t gaining on him. Mike could feel its presence looming in the air, like a dark cloud hanging overhead, but the creature didn’t pursue as aggressively as before. It just hovered there, its glowing crimson eyes fading into the distance.

  For a moment, Mike allowed himself to exhale, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he had managed to escape.

  But his relief was short-lived. A sharp chill ran down his spine as a new presence descended upon him. The air grew heavy, thick with something even darker, more malevolent than the High Rise Devil. Mike’s eyes darted upward, his heart sinking as a silhouette emerged from the darkness, riding upon the devil’s back.

  The Black Angel

  Its cold, calculating presence was unmistakable. The Black Angel perched atop the High Rise Devil’s massive wings like a dark sentinel, its figure an eerie shadow against the night sky. Its eyes, hidden behind a mask of shadows, were locked onto Mike, sending a chill of dread through his entire body. The creature’s wings spread out, vast and imposing, casting dark shadows across the city as they flew in search of Mike.

  The Black Angel’s mere presence was like a weight pressing down on Mike’s chest. This wasn’t just a monster hunting him anymore. This was something far worse. Something far more terrifying. The High Rise Devil was just the muscle, the brute force. The Black Angel was the mastermind—the strategist, the hunter.

  Mike’s breath quickened as he realized the full scope of the nightmare he was facing. They weren’t just chasing him. They were hunting him, working together, their eyes fixed on him as prey. There was no escape.

  His thoughts raced. The Black Angel was relentless, calculating. Cold. Methodical. Mike had no idea what he had gotten himself into or how far this nightmare would stretch. It was no longer just a fight for survival. It was a battle against something far darker than he had ever imagined.

  And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, his mind scrambled for a plan. He needed to hide. He needed to think, to figure out a way out of this—because running was no longer enough.

  Then, a thought struck him. The old warehouse at the edge of town. Forgotten, abandoned, a relic of the past. It was the only place he could think of where he might stand a chance. If he could just make it there, maybe he could hide, maybe he could survive long enough to figure out what to do next.

  Without a second thought, Mike swerved the car sharply, tires screeching against the pavement as he changed course. The warehouse was just ahead, looming dark and silent in the distance. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his mind focused solely on the goal: get inside.

  As the car screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse, Mike leapt out, his legs unsteady with exhaustion and fear. His hands trembled as he fumbled for the rusty door handle, pulling it open with all his strength, barely managing to slip inside before the wind howled in pursuit.

  Inside, the air was thick with dust, heavy with decay. Mike crouched behind a stack of crates, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to steady his breath. The High Rise Devil’s presence was suffocating. He could hear the wings beating outside, the creature’s growls and hissing filling the air.

  The Black Angel stood silent, its cold gaze piercing through the darkness, waiting, watching. A voice, smooth as ice and colder than death itself, finally broke the silence.

  "You can’t run forever, Mike."

  A shiver ran down Mike’s spine. His fingers gripped the shotgun tighter, but his body was trembling. He had no idea how he could survive this. He had no idea if he would ever see another day.

  This was only the beginning.

  The False Safety

  The city sprawled out before Mike like a maze of concrete and steel, each street offering him only the illusion of safety. His pulse hammered in his chest as he sped through the empty streets, the engine of his car roaring beneath him. Every time he glanced in the rearview mirror, his blood ran cold. The Black Angel and the High Rise Devil were still there, hovering just outside his vision, watching. Their presence loomed over him, a constant reminder that he was not free.

  Mike’s thoughts raced, trying to process everything that had happened in the past few hours. He had barely managed to escape the High Rise Devil, only to realize that something worse had been waiting for him all along. The Black Angel was no mere myth. It was real—and it was hunting him.

  The chill in the air seemed to intensify as he passed under the flickering streetlights, casting long shadows that danced like specters across the pavement. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles ached. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake. If he did, it would be over. There was no room for error.

  His mind flickered back to the night before, to the horror of seeing his house destroyed, to the maddened fury of the High Rise Devil. He had been naive to think that escaping the creature would be enough. The High Rise Devil’s power was immense, and its healing abilities made it nearly impossible to defeat. But it wasn’t just the devil he had to worry about now.

  The Black Angel… it was something else entirely. The way it moved, the way it watched—there was a cold intelligence behind its eyes, something far beyond the brutality of the High Rise Devil. It wasn’t just hunting him for sport. The Black Angel had a purpose, a reason for its pursuit. And that thought terrified Mike more than anything.

  He didn’t know what it wanted, but he knew one thing for certain: it wasn’t going to stop until it had him.

  A sudden jolt of panic surged through Mike as he spotted something in the corner of his eye. The night sky above seemed to ripple, the air distorting in a way that made his skin crawl. He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt just as the Black Angel appeared in the distance, descending from the sky with terrifying grace. Its wings spread wide, casting an imposing shadow across the city as it swooped toward him.

  Mike’s heart skipped a beat. It was coming for him. He had no choice but to keep moving. He slammed the gearshift into drive, speeding away again, his tires screeching against the pavement.

  The Black Angel gave chase, its wings cutting through the night air with a speed and precision that defied logic. It moved like a phantom, appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Mike’s mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, but there was no plan. How could he fight something like this? How could he survive against an entity so far beyond his comprehension?

  His mind flickered back to the High Rise Devil. Maybe he could outrun it. Maybe the devil wasn’t as fast as the Black Angel. He pushed the car harder, the engine screaming in protest as he tore down the street. He had to shake them off. He had to get somewhere safe. Somewhere they couldn’t reach him.

  But as he turned a corner, his hopes were dashed. Another figure appeared, blocking his path—a man, tall and cloaked in black. His face was obscured by a hood, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling red glow. Mike’s foot slammed on the brakes again, the car screeching to a halt just in time.

  The man in black stepped forward, his presence radiating an unnatural power. Mike’s pulse raced as the figure raised a hand, and the world around him seemed to freeze. The air thickened, the sound of his engine faltering as if the very essence of time itself had been altered.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You cannot escape,” the figure’s voice was low, rich with malice. “You are marked.”

  The words hung in the air, cold and heavy, and Mike knew he was in even more danger than before. He had no idea who this man was, or what his connection was to the Black Angel and the High Rise Devil, but there was no mistaking the feeling of absolute power emanating from him. This was not someone who could be reasoned with.

  Mike’s eyes darted around, searching for any possible escape route. His only option was to fight. But with his car trapped and no weapons at hand, he was utterly helpless.

  “I’m not ready to die yet,” Mike muttered under his breath. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his fingers trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline. There had to be a way out. There had to be something he could do.

  The man in black moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate. Mike’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and his breath caught in his throat. The High Rise Devil and the Black Angel had arrived, flanking him on either side. The nightmare was closing in from all directions.

  Mike’s chest tightened as the reality of his situation set in. He had no way out. No escape. No hope.

  The man in black raised his hand again, and the world around Mike seemed to warp. Time twisted, and the air grew thick with pressure, as though it was pushing against him from all sides. He couldn’t breathe. His heart raced.

  Suddenly, a deafening roar pierced the night, cutting through the tense silence. The High Rise Devil lunged forward, its massive claws reaching for Mike. The Black Angel swooped down from above, its wings cutting through the air like blades.

  Without thinking, Mike threw the car into reverse, slamming his foot down on the gas. He tore backward, the tires screeching as he collided with the man in black. The impact knocked the figure off balance for a moment, giving Mike just enough time to accelerate.

  The world around him became a blur of motion as Mike sped away, the creatures behind him howling in rage. His pulse raced as he tore down the streets, knowing that they wouldn’t stop chasing him. They would never stop until they had him.

  Mike’s mind was numb. There was no plan. There was no escape. He was alone, hunted, and desperate. The world had become a nightmare, and there was no waking up.

  All he could do was run.

  But even that was growing harder. With every passing second, the chase grew more intense, more relentless. The creatures—High Rise Devil, Black Angel, and the mysterious figure in black—were closing in. They were relentless, unstoppable.

  And Mike… he was running out of time.

  Mike's car tore through the desolate streets, its tires screeching in protest as he pushed the vehicle to its limits. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles had gone white, his muscles aching from the tension of the chase. The city's eerie silence was shattered by the howl of the wind as the monstrous creatures behind him drew closer, their presence sending a chill down his spine. The sound of the High Rise Devil's wings slicing through the air was deafening, a haunting rhythm that punctuated the terror he felt. And the Black Angel... that twisted, ethereal figure, its calculated movements sending shivers through his bones as it followed relentlessly.

  His pulse thundered in his ears, every beat matching the frantic rhythm of his escape. His heart hammered as he sped down the winding streets, his mind teetering on the edge of panic. The weight of the hunt pressed down on him, suffocating him with its intensity. The creatures were closing in. He could feel it. But how much longer could he keep this up?

  The engine sputtered, its raw power strained under the constant pressure. He could feel the burn in his muscles, the exhaustion creeping in like a silent tide. His mind was starting to slip, each second blending into the next as terror dulled his senses. His only thought was escape—he had to lose them. Had to find a way to outrun them.

  A flicker of hope broke through the haze of panic. He knew the city. He knew it better than anyone else. The old district, the forgotten corner of the city where the shadows clung to the cracked pavement and the buildings whispered their stories of decay—he knew it like the back of his hand. It was a gamble, but in his state, it was the only option. If he could get there, if he could navigate the labyrinth of alleys and forgotten roads, he might just make it. The thought drove him forward, every ounce of his remaining energy focused on that one sliver of possibility.

  With a sharp turn, Mike swerved off the main road, cutting through the darkness like a phantom. The headlights illuminated the dilapidated streets, casting fleeting shadows over the abandoned houses and forgotten storefronts. He weaved between the obstacles in his path, the city’s forgotten corners opening up before him like an escape route. He had to stay ahead. If he faltered, they would catch him.

  Behind him, the High Rise Devil’s wings grew fainter, the monstrous creature unable to keep pace with the nimble vehicle. But the Black Angel—always there, always present—remained a looming threat. Mike refused to let up, his hands gripping the wheel with the kind of desperation that only a man running for his life could understand.

  The district was in sight. His eyes locked onto it, and for the first time in what felt like hours, he allowed himself a sliver of hope. The district was old, crumbling, a forgotten relic of a time long gone. The buildings, broken and abandoned, stood like silent sentinels in the night. It was the perfect place to hide.

  Mike’s car screeched as he slammed on the brakes, the tires skidding on the cracked pavement as he turned sharply onto a narrow alleyway. His body lurched forward, the force of the turn throwing him against the seatbelt. He pushed the car harder, its engine growling in protest as he barreled down the alley, debris scattering in all directions. He had to make it to the warehouse—he had to. It was the only place that might give him a moment's respite.

  The warehouse loomed ahead, its rusted door half-open like a mouth waiting to swallow him whole. Without a second thought, Mike slammed the car into park and threw himself out of the driver’s seat. His legs burned, muscles screaming in protest as he ran toward the entrance, the sound of the High Rise Devil’s wings growing louder by the second. He didn’t dare look back. He couldn’t. The Black Angel’s presence was already creeping into his mind, like a storm waiting to break.

  The warehouse was dark, its interior thick with the smell of decay. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed forward, moving deeper into the building, every step a battle against his own exhaustion. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he forced himself to stay silent, to stay hidden. His eyes darted around, searching for anything that might offer a way out. He didn’t even know how long he could keep running—he just knew he had to.

  And then, the silence broke.

  The Black Angel was the first to arrive. Its wings beat softly in the darkness, a sound that sent icy shivers down Mike's spine. He froze, not daring to move a muscle, afraid that any sound, any shift in his position, would give him away. He watched through the gaps between crates, his breath held tight in his chest. The Black Angel drifted through the warehouse, its robes trailing behind it like smoke. Its featureless face turned slowly, scanning the space with an eerie precision that sent waves of dread crashing over Mike. It was hunting, and Mike was the prey.

  Then came the High Rise Devil.

  The very ground trembled as the beast landed outside, its massive wings stirring the air. Its talons scraped the metal of the building, testing its strength, its hunger. Mike clenched his jaw, his eyes squeezed shut. He could hear the growls, the grinding of its teeth. It was getting closer, and he couldn’t afford to make a sound. If he did, he was dead.

  A faint noise. A small piece of rubble shifting in the stillness. It was nothing. It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.

  The Black Angel’s head snapped toward the sound, its unnerving gaze locking onto the area where Mike hid. His entire body went rigid, the urge to run overwhelming, but he knew better. Running now would be certain death. Instead, he held perfectly still, praying that the creature’s otherworldly senses wouldn’t catch him.

  Mike’s pulse roared in his ears. Seconds dragged on like hours as the creature closed in, its presence suffocating, its wings fluttering so softly they seemed like a death sentence. And then, just as it drew closer, Mike’s mind raced. He needed to do something—anything—to buy himself more time.

  His fingers fumbled for his lighter, the cold metal reassuring in his hand. He didn’t hesitate. With a flick, the flame sparked to life, casting a faint glow in the dim warehouse. He tossed it toward a pile of old crates, watching as the flame took hold. The fire spread quickly, licking at the dry wood with an insatiable hunger. Smoke began to curl toward the ceiling, filling the air with its bitter scent.

  The Black Angel hesitated.

  For a brief moment, it turned, its eyes drawn to the fire, its dark robes shifting as it approached the source of the smoke. Mike didn’t wait to see what would happen next. He bolted, weaving between the shelves and crumbling machinery. His feet pounded against the concrete floor as he searched for an exit, his breath ragged and desperate.

  And then he saw it—a door. Old, rusted, barely hanging on its hinges—but it was a way out. He rushed toward it, slamming his body against the metal. It groaned in protest but gave way just enough for him to squeeze through.

  He tumbled into the night, gasping for air, his body shaking with exhaustion. Behind him, the High Rise Devil let out an earth-shaking screech, but Mike didn’t dare look back.

  He ran—through the twisted alleys, through the abandoned streets, his heart pounding with the weight of his escape. And when his legs finally gave out, when he collapsed against a crumbling wall, gasping for breath, he knew one thing for certain:

  He was alive.

  But he also knew, deep down, that this wasn’t over. Not yet. The creatures would find him again. They always did.

  The Aftermath of the Escape

  Mike’s lungs burned, each breath feeling like shards of glass scraping the inside of his chest. But he couldn’t afford to rest. Not yet. Not while the darkness of the night was still his only ally. The moon was a dim sliver in the sky, casting just enough light to make the crumbling buildings and twisted alleyways seem even more sinister. The silence around him felt heavier than it should, a weight pressing down on his chest as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

  His mind raced as the high-pitched screech of the High Rise Devil echoed in his head, a shrill sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The anger in that screech had been palpable, like the creature was enraged that its prey had slipped through its grasp. Mike could still feel the tremors that ran through the ground, as if the very earth had been shaken by the force of the Devil’s fury. He had escaped—barely—but he knew it wouldn’t stop. The creatures wouldn’t stop. Not until they had him.

  He slumped against the crumbling wall, the sharp edges of the brick digging into his back. His breath was shallow, his body a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline. He tried to steady himself, focusing on the skyline of the abandoned district before him. The buildings were skeletal, remnants of a once-thriving city now reduced to ruins. The streets were eerily empty, save for the occasional scurrying rat or the fluttering of a moth drawn to the flickering light of a broken streetlamp. Yet the silence felt more suffocating than soothing, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

  Mike’s thoughts turned to the Black Angel. The memories of that creature still haunted him. There was something unnerving about it, something that went beyond its grotesque appearance. It wasn’t just the black wings or the silent, graceful glide through the shadows that made it so terrifying—it was the way it seemed to know. The Black Angel wasn’t just hunting him; it was reading him. Calculating his every move with eerie precision. It had that unnerving ability to see through the walls of his hiding spots, as if it could sense his every breath, his every heartbeat. There were times when Mike would find himself holding perfectly still, thinking that if he stayed quiet enough, maybe it would pass him by. But the Black Angel didn’t miss anything. It understood its prey. Mike had learned over the years that predators like the Black Angel weren’t just dangerous—they were intelligent. They knew how to toy with their victims, how to break them down before they ever made their move.

  But even the Black Angel couldn’t compare to the terror of the High Rise Devil. That thing was a force of nature. Mike had felt its presence closing in on him, the massive wings blocking out the faint moonlight and casting the alley into darkness. The air had grown thick with heat, and Mike could feel the sweat slicking his skin, his pulse racing with the knowledge that the creature was right there, only inches away. He could hear the beat of its wings—slow, deliberate, and loud—like the sound of thunder before a storm. Then there was the screech, deafening and primal, a sound that rattled his bones. It was the kind of scream that made you feel like your entire existence was insignificant, like the creature was a force beyond comprehension, a manifestation of something otherworldly. Mike had felt the heat of its breath close behind him, like a furnace at his back, and it nearly shattered his resolve. It wasn’t just the physical power the High Rise Devil possessed—it was the sheer, unrelenting nature of it. It was a storm personified, and Mike had barely escaped its grasp.

  But right now, Mike couldn’t afford to focus on the creatures. The fear gnawing at his mind was sharp, but it couldn’t stop him. He had to keep moving. He had to survive. It was all he had left.

  With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs weak and trembling beneath him. The streets before him blurred in his vision, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep moving. The adrenaline that had carried him so far was beginning to fade, but he couldn’t let it slow him down. The city was vast—an endless maze of forgotten streets, abandoned buildings, and hidden tunnels. Its underbelly stretched far beneath the surface, a sprawling web of safehouses, black markets, and old hideouts. If he could find one of those safehouses, he might be able to regroup. Maybe he could patch himself up, get some rest, and come up with a plan.

  But the truth was, Mike had no plan. Not anymore.

  In the beginning, he’d had a strategy. Run, hide, keep moving. But now? The creatures had learned his patterns, and Mike knew he couldn’t outrun them forever. There was no place left to hide. No sanctuary that could protect him.

  Every step he took felt heavier, the weight of his own exhaustion pressing down on him. He had spent so many years running, but now it felt like the end was inevitable. The creatures would catch up to him sooner or later. They always did.

  His mind flickered to the people he used to know. The faces of the friends he had lost over the years, the allies who had been devoured by the creatures one by one. He had been running for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like to be part of something, to have someone to trust. But now, as he stumbled through the twisted streets, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that was the key—if there was a way to fight back. But how? How could he stand against monsters that were so far beyond human understanding?

  For a fleeting moment, Mike let himself dream. A world where the creatures were defeated, where he could live without the constant fear gnawing at his every step. But it was just that—a dream. Nothing more.

  He turned the corner, his footsteps echoing off the broken pavement. The world around him was nothing more than shadows and rubble, a city that had been consumed by darkness long ago. Mike had nothing left. No plan, no allies, no hope.

  But he would survive. He didn’t know how, but he would. Because if there was one thing Mike had learned in all his years of running, it was this: survival was a fight. And he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

  He tightened his grip on the makeshift weapon in his hand—a jagged shard of metal scavenged from a wrecked vehicle—and stepped deeper into the dark streets, ready for whatever the city would throw at him next.