Devon stared at the run-down apartment, its cracked walls and sagging roof looking like it had stood for millennia, a decayed shell of his childhood that held nothing but pain.
He headed to the back of the building, grabbed a few worn clothes from a pile, and slipped into an alley, moving quickly to avoid notice.
He stayed there until darkness fell, studying his unfamiliar body.
Now reverted to his 14-year-old self—his past self from this timeline, a result of passing through the Nexus Void's door—he was the size of a teenager, with blue curly hair tipped black and matching blue eyes. The sight stirred nostalgia, memories flooding back: being bullied for his hair, praised for its beauty, or pitied for his frail looks.
Staring into a puddle of water, he saw his reflection and frowned, his face twisting like shredded paper.
He hated this body, this face—they dragged him back to a past he wanted to bury, a weak, fearful self he despised most.
"I don't have much time left, in the next 2hrs I will lose the tiny bit of remnant nexus I had left," he muttered.
What was he waiting for, exactly?
He was waiting for the other Devon—the young Devon of this timeline.
This world could only hold one Devon, so one had to die.
The young Devon had to go.
Not long after, the young Devon stepped out of the apartment, likely sent on an errand.
Using the cover of darkness, the older Devon appeared in front of him.
Eyes widening, young Devon froze, frightened. "Wait, who are…"
"Its alright, this world, your life is going to be filled with so much more pain, it really doesn't get better, and the moment it does, you lose that tiny bit of happiness as well… You are the bastard son of hope, and I'd be glad if someone had done this for me back then."
Young Devon, unable to process the weight of those words, was about to scream when his mouth was grabbed.
"I promise it won't hurt…" Devon said, tears welling in his eyes.
Through his covered mouth, young Devon mumbled, "Wai… Mpwease, don wo dis."
"Elucin…"
Young Devon's body faded to dust, particles dissolving painlessly under Devon's innate ability, leaving no trace of pain or struggle.
Devon entered the run-down apartment where the young Devon had walked out earlier.
He had one hour left before his last bit of Nexus reserve would fade, leaving him a true 14-year-old human teenager.
Wearing a white tunic with torn shorts, he stepped inside.
There, sitting lazily on a worn couch, was his father—drunk, with a wrinkled beard and greyish hair, watching TV.
Turning to him, his father said calmly, "Devon, you're back. Did you get it?"
Not paying him attention, Devon walked over, his steps heavy with years of resentment.
"What the hell has gotten over you? You know the drill, if you don't find the cigarettes, you keep walking until you do, hell, I don't care if you have to walk to the other edge of the continent, understood," his father said, standing up, his face twisting with rage.
Devon, showing no hint of fear, stared at the man for a moment, then spoke.
"My whole life I've always hated you, I always did…"
"How dare you talk to me that way," the father said, raising his hand to slap Devon.
Devon grabbed it easily.
"What the…"
His father tried pulling his hand free, but it didn't budge.
Devon slowly applied force, bringing the old man to his knees before letting go.
"You know, old man, I've always hated you," Devon said, sitting on the one-handed torn sofa. "Every single thing that happened to me in my life started with you, and I hated you for that. You broke my arm once. I screamed and begged, thinking there was still a shred of fatherly love in you, but I was wrong. You gave me bruises over my body. You even cut off my ear when I turned 18."
Devon's face broke into a bitter smile.
"You are not my son, I don't know who you are, but… you are not my son," his father said, shaken by Devon's defiant tone.
"Of course I am, I'm just not the son you taught to follow your every command like a loyal dog," Devon said, standing up and looking at his father, still kneeling, his hand broken.
"But you know something… I don't hate you anymore, I don't blame you anymore. Your beatings only started when you lost Mom… You broke down for the woman you loved, and beating me half to death every night was your way to escape that pain. Perhaps that was the day I stopped hating you… Look at all I did just to save the woman I love… I guess we're more alike than I failed to admit."
His father's eyes turned teary, bursting into sobs. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know that this was the monster I grew to become, I was just in pain, I didn't know what else to do."
Devon, looking at his tear-soaked father, smiled and hugged him.
"I can hear your every thought, Father, and I just have one thing to say, you truly are a monster, faking tears just to get away and report me to the police? Leopards never change their spots."
"Good bye, old man, you won't be missed."
"Falgrin, fries swatyi masutt probos quesin tolosvane."
A glowing light erupted from Devon's body as they embraced, bursting through his father's body like a popped balloon.
Organs spilled everywhere, blood covering Devon's tunic.
He instantly cleaned the blood with his Nexus powers, then grabbed what remained of his father's body, planning to make it look like an accident.
As he walked to open the door, he saw a figure approaching.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't kill anyone who didn't deserve it, but if there was no other way, so be it.
Already stretching out his hand to strike, he stopped.
He recognized the figure—his mother, alive, her silhouette a painful echo of the past he'd fought to reclaim.
"Mom?".