Bound by the king of destruction

Beneath the collapsed building, I gasped, my lungs clawing for air as if I'd been drowning in a vacuum. My eyes widened, veins burning as I forced breath into my chest. A massive chunk of wall pinned me down, its crushing weight grinding into my ribs. I braced trembling hands against the slab and pushed. My muscles screamed, tendons straining like frayed cords, until the wall groaned and rolled off to the side with a thundering crash.

I crawled out shirtless, barefoot, blood streaking my skin. My back had knitted itself back together, but the pain was still there, gnawing like fire in my bones. Every movement was a jolt, like being ripped apart from the inside.

All that remained of the building was ruin. A mountain of twisted steel, shattered glass, and pulverized cement irreparable, like a carcass of the place that once stood.

I staggered forward, stepping over splintered debris. Shards of glass buried themselves into my soles with every step. Blood welled up, dripping in dark red trails behind me. I didn't stop. I didn't even flinch. Maybe I didn't know how to anymore.

Eventually, I stumbled onto a narrow dirt road, the dust clinging to my skin and mixing with sweat. Far ahead, an old, forgotten neighborhood loomed farms, broken fences, houses so worn they looked like memories.

Behind a cattle shed, I collapsed. The cows inside mooed lazily, unaware of the storm tearing me apart. I leaned my back against the wooden wall, curling into myself, pain coiling in my chest. Words slipped out, soft, cracked, not even words I understood, like I was calling for someone I wasn't sure existed.

Because I was starting to believe this body wasn't mine.

That something else lived here.

Something I didn't want to name.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Are you listening?"

Silence.

"Do you only live to destroy?"

The question lingered like a curse, but no one answered.

"You hate humans, don't you?" I muttered, my voice cracking. "After all they've done, I'm sure you hate them."

The silence was deafening.

"I hate existing," I whispered, my throat tightening. "I hate that I can't even die… Is that what you want? Is this your idea of life?"

The only reply was the lazy chewing of the cows behind me, their sound blending with the low hiss of wind through the cracks in the wooden boards.

Then a memory sliced through me like broken glass.

---

I was five years old again.

Small. Fragile. Standing in the White Unit.

That place was too bright, too still.

The air itself felt white.

A man walked beside me, his hand large and rough around mine. We moved through a hallway that swallowed sound and into a room where a chair waited. I sat first, my legs dangling, the hospital clothes hanging loose like I'd shrunk inside them.

He sat across from me, his presence heavy but not frightening. I still remember his face, white beard trimmed, a scar cutting from the bridge of his nose across his cheek. His body looked strong, untouched by age. His eyes were calm, almost too calm.

He lifted his hand. A flicker of flame bloomed above his palm, small but alive, like a match burning upside down.

"Can you do this?" he asked, his voice almost kind.

I stared at my own hand, thin and trembling, and placed it on the table like his. I tried. Hard. But nothing came. My chest tightened as I shook my head.

He reached forward, gently taking my hand, placing it over his.

"Try again," he said. "You can do this. You have more inside you than you know."

I tried again, focus burning behind my eyes. But nothing.

He smiled faintly.

"You will someday. But to reach that day, you need to stay here. The White Unit will teach you how to control the demon inside you. When you master it, you can see your parents again."

"You want to see them, don't you?"

I nodded. Desperately.

"Then you need to protect them. And to protect them, you'll do what I say."

His smile pressed warmth into my chest, but it was never enough.

Then suddenly, without warning, he twisted my arm.

SNAP.

The sound was sharp, cruel, final.

I stared at my wrist, twisted and loose. My face remained empty, as if I didn't understand pain. I didn't cry. I didn't make a sound. I just kept shifting my gaze from his eyes to my broken wrist, confusion drowning my expression.

He watched me closely. Waiting. Testing.

The next day, my wrist was whole again. No bandages. No medicine. Just healed. Like it had never broken.

---

I snapped back, sitting under the wooden wall, my breathing ragged.

---

"…Maybe they're not all bad," I murmured. "Maybe they're just… desperate to understand."

But I knew I was lying to myself.

The cows behind me shifted, their low voices blending with the silence like eavesdropping witnesses.

"I hate that I have to keep killing people whenever this… thing takes over. No wonder everyone hates me. No wonder they can't trust me. How could they? How could anyone trust a monster that doesn't even die?"

The words broke inside me. My voice cracked, raw and trembling.

"I'm a murderer. A weak thing that gives in every time. What makes me think I could save anyone?"

Tears cut down my cheeks, hot and relentless. I didn't bother wiping them away. I just let them fall.

"What was the point of the White Unit? Wasn't I supposed to become a protector? To learn control?" My voice rose, cracked, then fell again. "Is this… is this what they meant?"

The ache in my chest deepened, pressing, suffocating.

"The emotions inside me... they don't even feel like mine anymore. They're too heavy. Too sharp."

My breath hitched as I whispered, "How am I supposed to prove to anyone that I'm not a threat? That I won't destroy everything again? How do I prove I'm not just a ticking bomb?"

The words died on my lips.

---

And then… I saw it.

Something, or someone emerged from the dark.

The figure wasn't human. It had horns. Fangs. Its skin glimmered like frozen fire, black and twisted, with short, ragged hair hanging over half its face.

It walked past me slowly, almost lazily, until it paused.

Then it turned its head, its eyes half-lidded, and looked straight at me.

I froze. My breath caught as I stared back, unable to speak, unable to move.