Chapter 37: The Scars Tattooed on The Heart
I streaked across the continent, a hunter locked onto the predator. Abdu’s trail glittered in my vision—fine crystalline particles, each one a beacon pulsing with his essence. They mapped his erratic flight, a shimmering thread I followed through every twist and turn.
He rampaged across Asia, a whirlwind of death, bodies crumpling in his wake as he darted from one region to the next. But no matter how fast he fled, I chased without losing him. Seconds—that’s all it took for me to close the gap, a relentless shadow he couldn’t shake.
His strength bled away, his once-blinding speed halved by exhaustion and oozing wounds. On the thirteenth clash, he faltered. His boots skidded across the earth, kicking up dust, and he spun to face me—cornered, desperate, the predator baring his fangs.
The landscape around us blurred, a nameless stretch of ground lost in his frantic escape. Location meant nothing to Abdu. His vow was simple, absolute: to snuff out every soul drawing breath on this planet.
“I’ll give it to you,” he rasped, chest heaving as he sucked in air. “You’re one relentless bastard.”
I advanced a single step, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I joined the planetary defense force to stop monsters like you. You slaughter innocent people without hesitation. I can’t stop until you’re finished.”
His eyes flared, wild with rage. “Innocent people?” he roared, venom lacing every syllable. “No one—absolutely no one—in this world is innocent!”
His fists clenched tight, knuckles whitening as if he could crush his own fury. “I was born into a wasteland. Hell wasn’t a story—it was my reality. Daybreak to dusk, all I knew was the scream of gunfire, the blast of grenades, the roar of rocket launchers. Not once—not a single moment—did I taste peace.”
His words hung heavy, raw with pain, begging for understanding. But I saw past the mask. “Countless people endure suffering,” I countered, my tone unyielding. “They don’t turn it into a blade to carve through the world. Your pain doesn’t excuse murder.”
He laughed—a jagged, hollow sound that echoed with bitterness. “You think I chose this on a whim? For years, I believed suffering was life’s unbreakable law, the fate stitched into every soul. I woke each day praying for one more sunrise before death claimed me. I surrendered to it, and still, the world stripped everything away. Do you know what my father said before he died?”