Roze's eyes gleamed with a mix of emotions as he stood before Gerald, his mentor of five years. At just 15, he had completed his training as an assassin, and his sights were set on Gustaf, the man who had ruined his life.
"Congratulations, Roze," Gerald said, his voice filled with pride. "I'm glad you made it. You've been a perfect student, and I must say, a perfect toy for the night."
Roze's expression remained stoic as he grasped the wine glass for the first time, his fingers wrapping around it with a newfound sense of determination. He raised it to his lips, the crimson liquid glistening in the dim light of the tavern. Without hesitation, he drank, the bitter taste burning down his throat.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Roze said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Now, I'll finish that old fart."
Gerald's expression turned serious, his eyes narrowing. "Be careful, Roze. Gustaf won't go down without a fight."
Roze stood up, his movements fluid and deliberate. "Bye," he said, his voice cold, before turning to leave the tavern.
The next day, Roze woke to excruciating pain as Gustaf's foot connected with his crotch.
"Where were you last night?" Gustaf sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Answer me!"
Roze struggled to his feet, his face contorted in agony. "You're concerned about my whereabouts now?" he spat, his voice laced with venom.
Gustaf's expression twisted in disgust. "You're not entertaining me properly. Your tongue's become useless; you can't even enjoy swallowing."
Roze's anger boiled over. With a swift kick, he sent Gustaf crashing to the ground, the older man's head bouncing off the hardwood floor with a sickening crack.
Gustaf's face twisted in rage. "How dare you, punk! You're kicking the person who's fed you for 15 years?"
Roze's eyes blazed with fury. "Fed me? Or took my proper feeding?" He unleashed a barrage of kicks, targeting Gustaf's ribs with precision.
But instead of pain, Gustaf's face contorted in laughter. "Haha! So you know the whole thing, you brat. You're so late to the party."
Roze's anger reached a fever pitch. "What do you mean?"
Gustaf's grin grew wider. "Let me tell you more... When you were born, your father was ecstatic. He fed the entire village, and I was one of the guests. But when I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to have you. You were destined to be my night-time toy."
Roze's face darkened, his fists clenched.
Gustaf continued, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Your parents' death in the rockslide? That was no accident. I orchestrated it. I remember their broken unrecognisable bodies, their screams still echoing in my mind."
Roze's control snapped. He seized Gustaf's head, slamming it into the floor repeatedly, the sound of crunching bone and splintering wood filling the air. The floor turned crimson as Gustaf's blood pooled around him.
In a shocking reversal, Gustaf produced a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Roze's chest.
Roze's eyes widened in shock and rage. With a Herculean effort, he yanked the knife out and began stabbing Gustaf with reckless abandon, targeting his face, chest, and every vulnerable spot. Roze even cuf off Gustaf's genitals to show his own freedom.The brutality of his assault was unrelenting, driven by years of pent-up fury.
Finally, Roze stopped, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on Gustaf's mutilated corpse. The reality of his actions hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him shaken.
Panicked, Roze tossed the knife aside and stumbled backward, his eyes fixed on the carnage. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, but also a creeping fear. He had taken a life.
Roze collapsed beside Gustaf's lifeless body, his mind reeling. After a few moments, he struggled to his feet, his movements mechanical. He staggered out of the house, the memories of his tormentor still fresh.
With a newfound resolve, Roze set the house ablaze, watching as the flames consumed the structure, purging the dark memories that haunted him. As the fire raged, he turned his back on the past, ready to forge a new path.