Chapter 12: The Cruel Avenger

 The sun filtered through a gray sky, covered by a blanket of smoke that lay like a shroud over what remained of the village. The houses were reduced to blackened skeletons, the scorched ground crunching under his boots. The wind blew softly, carrying with it the acrid smell of ashes and shattered dreams.

The only living being left-was him. The white-masked man walked slowly along what was once the main street of the village. Each step was accompanied by the somber sound of loneliness. His black cloak, encrusted with dust, moved slightly to the rhythm of the wind. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, scanned with detachment what remained of the chaos he himself had generated.

A red fruit, miraculously intact, lay on an abandoned bench. He picked it up in his gloved fingers and lifted it to his mouth. One bite. The sweet juice dripped onto his lips, sliding off along the edge of his mask.

“What a waste...” he muttered to himself, his words blown through the air like a moan. “They were really delicious.”

A bitter smile hid behind the mask. He turned away, letting his gaze linger on what remained of the people. Shadows. Memories. Dust.

"Since I've been here ... I feel different. Every fiber in my body screams power. I have never been so strong, so ... complete."

He brought a hand to his chest, as if to feel if his heart was still beating at the same human pace as it once did.

“And to think there were so many women...” he whispered, almost remorsefully. "I would have liked to make them mine, all of them. But... they would have just hated me, wouldn't they? As always."

He took a step forward, then another. The ashes rose lightly around him, dancing in the air like restless spirits.

"But it doesn't matter. Next time it will be different. I will find another village, yes ...and this time... they will love me."

His eyes narrowed, charged with feverish excitement.

"I will be their savior... their god! Everything I want will be mine. Their prayers, their smiles... and their bodies."

He stopped beside what was once a fountain. Now just a broken circle in the ground, filled with murky water and sinister reflections. He mirrored himself, but the face of the mask returned a blank image.

“What a wonderful world...” he laughed softly, as a light, almost childlike laugh grazed his lips. "There are no rules. There are no limits. And above all... there are no longer those who used to treat me like a reject."

She turned her head sharply, scanning the blackened horizon. Then a long sigh.

“But what do I do now?” he huffed, in a bored voice. "There's no one to play with here. No one who can stand up to me..."

He lowered his gaze to his hands, as if hoping that something might emerge from them. But nothing moved. Only the wind.

"When I woke up in this place... I thought it was the future. I thought I had ended up in another time. But instead... no. Another world. A world that has never known my name. A world that will have to bow to me."

An almost unreal silence enveloped the shattered city. Only his words remained, etched like wounds on the air.

"All right... I'll stay here a little longer. But then... then I'll go find the next village."

He walked slowly down a side street until his eyes rested on a seemingly untouched house. Two stories, built of fine wood and carefully decorated. The shutters closed, the flowers now dried on the balconies, the doorway still intact.

“Oh...” he said in an almost amused whisper. "This must have been the chief's house. Elegant... worthy of me."

He pushed open the door quietly. The wood creaked, but did not break. The interior was silent, still, as if time had stopped.

He checked every corner, unhurriedly. No sound. No heartbeat beyond his own.

“Perfect.” He said, dropping onto the soft futon that still smelled like life. “Good night... my world.”

And with a smile invisible under her mask, she closed her eyes.

While outside, in the ashes, the wind continued to sing the lament of a village now forgotten.

Morning dawned between the dusty curtains of the abandoned mansion, tinging the blackened walls with a soft golden light. The masked man slowly opened his eyes, stretching like a satisfied beast after a hearty meal. His body rose unhurriedly from the dusty bed, still shrouded in the unreal silence that only dead places can offer.

"Hmm... sleeping in the chief's house has a certain charm," he muttered to himself, looking out the window. The charred remains of the village still spread the smell of pain over the earth. But he, on the contrary, seemed invigorated. "It's time to look for a new stage. The curtain is about to reopen."

He set out without looking back. His black robes swayed lightly in the wind, while the snow-white mask on his face reflected the first rays of the sun. He did not have to wait long: just over the hill, beyond a sea of tall, silent grass, another village appeared before him.

A smile curved his lips behind his mask. "Oh, there it is... my next little kingdom. I'll play differently this time."

The village streets were bustling but quiet. Children laughed as they ran among the market stalls, women exchanged vegetables and cloth, and men loaded crates and barrels. No one noticed his presence... not yet.

He advanced with a slow, controlled pace, walking among the people as if he were an ordinary stranger. From time to time he barely tilted his head, feigning respect, courtesy. Then he stopped beside an elderly woman sitting in front of a fruit stall.

"Excuse me, good woman. Could you direct me to where the village chief resides?" she asked, her voice so gentle it sounded unreal.

The woman smiled. "Oh, sure, dear boy. See that house over there? The one with the red roof. It belongs to our chief. He's always there, even at this hour."

“I see... I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

A blink later, he disappeared into the crowd. The door swung open with a crash. The village chief, a man with long white hair and a lived-in look, stood up from his chair, shrugging off some papers.

"Who are you? How dare you come in like this?" he asked, irritated but not yet concerned.

“Me? I am simply... the next chief of this village,” replied the masked man in a flat tone, as if it were a given.

The old man burst into thunderous laughter. "Ahahahah! But you are crazy! Look at that ridiculous face! Now go away before I call the guards!"

"Ridiculous...? Interesting word for a man one step from death." The man took a step forward, and his voice grew colder. "I don't tolerate disrespect. Not anymore."

“Guards!” shouted the leader. But that's when it happened.

A trail of light slipped from the man's mask. The guards, rushing in within seconds, slumped to the ground one after another like puppets whose strings had been cut. No scream, no reaction. Only silent death.

The old chief stepped back, his face as pale as wax. “T-please... I have a family... I beg you...!”

"Family? Ah... the women here will also become part of my family," he said in a voice distorted by sick elation. “I will not let anyone stand in the way of my ascent.”

He slowly laid a hand on the old man's head. The touch seemed to drain the life from the body, which fell to the ground with a muffled thud.

Soon after, the newcomer emerged from the house holding the old man's lifeless body in his arms. The crowd gathered around, confused, agitated. He dropped it to the ground like an empty sack and turned to the people, his voice laden with grief... feigned.

"People! It is with immense sorrow that I give you this news... Your chief has attacked my village, slaughtering innocents, women and children! I lost everything... but today, justice has spoken."

A murmur rose in the crowd. Suspicion. Anger. But also acceptance.

"From today... I will guide you! I will protect you from every threat! Those who attempt to destroy you... I will annihilate them with my own hands! Never more suffering. Never more fear."

“But... who are you?” someone asked.

The man raised his head toward the sky, the sun reflected off his mask like a divine glow.

"I have no name. But you may call me-the Cruel Avenger."

A moment of silence. Then, like a wave sweeping over every rock, the crowd erupted in a roar.

"The Avenger! He is our savior!"

“Yes! Protect us!”

"Thank you! Thank you!"

The man's heart swelled with vanity. Behind that mask, the smile widened like that of a god contemplating his kingdom.

"Perfect. Everything is proceeding as planned. This world... will be mine."