Renzo sat at the edge of a crumbling rooftop, the cold stone biting into his skin as his legs dangled over the abyss. Above, the moon hung low and pale, casting a ghostly light across the dead cityscape. Below, darkness waited—silent, endless, almost welcoming.
A storm raged inside him, louder than the wind.
His breaths came shallow. Each exhale was heavy, like it carried the weight of every year he had endured in a world that never once embraced him.
He was tired.
Not from the night's chill—but from everything else. The pain. The noise. The silence. The past.
> "You're worthless."
The voice echoed inside his skull—sharp, cruel, unforgettable. His father's words. They had been branded into him long ago, buried deep, festering like an old wound that refused to heal.
He clenched his fists.
They trembled—not from fear, not from cold—but from the unbearable gravity of years spent being unwanted. Forgotten. Broken.
Renzo had never known what "home" felt like.
Abandoned before he could even form memories of his parents, the streets had taken him in. Raised him. Shaped him. Hardened him. The first time he bled, no one was there to help. The first time he fought back, no one cheered.
He learned that survival didn't come from hope. It came from pain.
And he endured it all.
By the time he was twenty, Renzo was no longer a victim of the world—he had become its monster. The leader of the Underworld. Feared by many. Respected by few. He crushed enemies with ruthless precision and built an empire from nothing but blood and willpower.
He was strong. Stronger than anyone.
But strength never filled the void inside.
With every victory, the emptiness only grew deeper. Every enemy he felled, every gang he conquered, only reminded him how hollow it all was.
He wasn't living. He was surviving. Always surviving.
> "I should have never been born."
The words slipped from his mouth, barely a whisper—yet more honest than anything he had said in years. The thought wasn't new. It had visited him countless times before. But tonight… it lingered.
Tonight, it felt right.
The last fight should've been his greatest triumph. A final war between rival factions. Blood, chaos, power.
He won, of course.
But there was no pride. No relief.
Just pain. Exhaustion. Emptiness.
His body was a map of wounds. His soul, far worse.
He stared into the void below.
There was nothing left for him—not in this world, not in this life.
No more battles to fight.
No more masks to wear.
No more lies to live.
> "I've had enough," he whispered, eyes closed.
And then, he stepped forward.
The wind howled around him as he fell, the rooftop vanishing above, the city shrinking away, swallowed by shadow.
The cold air whipped past his skin.
And for the first time in years—
He felt…
Nothing.
There was no light.
No divine voice.
Just… nothing.
Renzo didn't know how long it lasted. The absence of everything was suffocating, yet strangely peaceful. There was no pain. No regret. No sense of self. Just the void.
The pain, the heartache, the torment… all of it vanished in an instant. His body crumpled into the void, lifeless. And for the first time, he was free.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
And then, suddenly—something changed.
A force pulled at him, dragging him from the abyss. It was heavy, suffocating, pressing against him from all sides. His mind, once empty, stirred through the thick fog of oblivion.
What…?
A sensation—warm, soft, foreign. He could feel something. A pressure. A constraint.
His body? No… not quite.
His tiny hands twitched. His legs kicked weakly. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
Slowly, the world around him began to take shape. A dim candle flickered nearby. The soft murmur of voices, distant and unfamiliar, filled the air. He could hear breathing—steady, rhythmic.
Nothing made sense.
Renzo blinked, but his eyes no longer felt like his own. The world was… different. His body was different. He wasn't in that dark, lonely place anymore.
A cry escaped his lips—high, thin, desperate.
He flinched at the sound. Was that… me?
His tiny hands clenched into fists, grasping at the impossible truth.
I died.
And now…
He was alive again.
A second chance. A new beginning.