In this fantastical world, where magic and darkness intertwined, the necromancer stood as a living embodiment of the eerie and the unholy. His appearance was a testament to his power, a reminder that in the shadows, where life and death converged, he held dominion over the very essence of mortality itself.

"Teach- Teacher?" I stuttered, left utterly defeated at the shocking revelation. Was it my mother who set this up? Was it the school? Was it of his own personal interests? Maybe even the demon king?

"Sorry, kid. Your mother is too powerful for the school to deny any of her requests."

"Just buy her off! She loves money! Why the fuck would you even kill one of my friends just for the sake of this stupid request-"

"Not that one. The other one… I'm sorry. I can't do anything about this, but I can assure you that your friend's soul will be put to good use, serving this utopia that we live in."

…

As I begrudgingly approached the cottage deep within the oppressive forest, I couldn't help but resent the sight of the wretched dwelling. The cottage, a dilapidated structure, stood like a grotesque mockery of the natural beauty that surrounded it. Its wooden facade was marred by rot and decay, and the ivy and moss that clung to it seemed like a pathetic attempt to hide its decrepitude.

The so-called garden next to the cottage was nothing more than an overgrown mess of tangled weeds and thorny vines. It appeared as if nature itself had conspired to reclaim this forsaken place as if the very earth resented the presence of the cottage and sought to devour it whole.

The lamps scattered around the clearing were a pitiful display of feeble attempts to fend off the encroaching darkness. Their flickering, dim glow did little to dispel the pervasive gloom that seemed to seep from every corner of the forest. Fireflies, rather than enchanting, were nothing more than pests, their incessant buzzing an irritating reminder of the wretched state of this place.

Stepping inside the cottage only deepened my disdain. The hearth, struggling to muster a feeble flame, barely chased away the chill that pervaded the room. Wooden beams sagged under the weight of neglect, and the herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling were a sorry attempt at prettification.

The furnishings were decrepit and uncomfortable—a rickety chair that threatened to collapse at any moment, a table marred with stains and gouges, and a lumpy, unkempt bed that seemed more fit for vermin than a human being. The walls were covered in moth-eaten tapestries and grimy rugs, each one a testament to the misery that had festered within these walls.

In this dismal and forsaken place, time appeared to have stood still, frozen in a state of eternal decay. The cottage was an abhorrence within the heart of the dark forest, a blight on the natural beauty that surrounded it. As I reluctantly settled in, I knew that I had returned to a place where my spirit would wither and my soul would suffocate—a wretched abode that I despised with every fiber of my being.

But as soon as my mother stepped in, the defense mechanism turned off and revealed its beautiful appearance. It was a complete one-eighty from the decrepit and almost disgusting abode.

Still, I hated this place. It was suffocating before and it is still just as suffocating.

"Oh… I guess I never put you back on the whitelist…" My mother sighed, slowly sitting down on the couch next to me. "Anyways, stop with that fucking attitude."

"YOU KILLED MY GOD DAMN FRIEND! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!? YOU BOTH ARE PSYCHOPATHS! HE WAS THE ONLY THING THAT KEPT ME HAPPY! FOR FUCKS-SAKE!" I screamed, my spit spraying my mother's stone-cold face as she just sat there, letting me release all of my anger.

"He wasn't who you thought he was, son."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"You won't believe me if I tell you, so I'll just show you," My mother flash-stepped instantly in front of me, catching my hands that instinctively came up and pressing her forehead against mine. "Don't resist. Just relax."

In a kingdom where diversity and harmony among demi-humans had once been the bedrock of society, a sinister figure emerged from the shadows—a boy whose actions plunged him into a world of malevolence, cruelty, and moral bankruptcy. He stood as a stark contrast to the values and principles upheld by the kingdom's varied inhabitants, carving a path of depravity that left a trail of suffering in his wake… a complete opposite to what he showed me.

Murder was his favored tool for exerting dominance and control. With a heart devoid of compassion, he took lives without hesitation or remorse. Demi-humans, once unified by bonds of camaraderie, lived in perpetual fear of his brutal violence. His reign of terror shattered the very foundation of their society.

Torture was another wicked art he relished. He derived perverse pleasure from inflicting excruciating pain on his victims, devising grotesque methods to break their spirits and extract information. The echoes of agonized screams haunted the kingdom's darkest corners, a testament to his sadistic cruelty.

Extortion became his primary means of gaining power and wealth. He preyed upon the vulnerabilities of the demi-human populace, exploiting their deepest fears and insecurities. Families were torn apart as he demanded exorbitant sums and valuable resources, leaving countless victims destitute and broken.

His corrupting influence extended beyond his direct victims, poisoning the very fabric of society. Trust, once a pillar of the kingdom's strength, withered away into a haze of paranoia and suspicion. The sense of community that had bound the demi-humans together for generations disintegrated, replaced by fear and division.

What made this boy truly abhorrent was his utter lack of remorse or empathy. He reveled in the suffering he caused, finding satisfaction in the anguish of others. His heart, if he ever possessed one, had turned to stone, and he seemed to thrive on the misery he sowed like a malevolent gardener tending to a garden of despair.

And as a few tears dripped from my eyes, I was sucked back into that small little cottage where I found my mother's arms embracing me.

"His real name is Wallace King. A wanted man with a bounty of over five hundred gold coins." My mouth dropped at the price of his head. "He is a shapeshifter and is crafty with his work. The persona he recently took on was your friend and he's been stirring up tons of trouble, especially with the less fortunate ones who don't receive as much attention from the nobles and royals."

Suddenly, I was sucked back into that third-person point of view and witnessed an additional segment that cemented my worries. As the boy's reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness grew, it was only a matter of time before he attracted the attention of one of the city's most infamously villainous gangs. This sinister organization, shrouded in darkness and steeped in a legacy of malevolence, recognized in him a kindred spirit—a soul already tainted by wickedness.

Their initial encounter was cloaked in shadows and secrecy, a clandestine meeting held in the depths of the city's labyrinthine alleys. The boy, whose notoriety had made him both feared and sought after, found himself face to face with the enigmatic leaders of the gang.

These shadowy figures, their faces obscured by masks and cloaks, saw potential in the boy's capacity for brutality and his utter lack of moral restraint. They spoke of power, riches, and a world where the strong thrived without restraint. It was a seductive offer, one that resonated with the darkness that had consumed his soul.

The initiation rites were brutal and unforgiving, designed to test his loyalty and resolve. He endured trials of pain and cruelty, proving his willingness to carry out acts of violence and terror without question. It was a baptism into a world where morality held no sway, where wickedness was rewarded, and compassion was seen as weakness.

With each passing day, the boy's ties to the gang deepened. He took part in extortion schemes, ruthlessly crushing those who resisted their demands. He carried out acts of violence that left the city's inhabitants trembling in fear. Murder became a casual task, and he reveled in the malevolent camaraderie of his newfound allies.

Under the gang's dark influence, the boy's depravity knew no bounds. He sank deeper into the abyss of his own malevolence, embracing the twisted world they offered him. The city, once a place of diverse cultures and shared values, now cowered under the shadow of their malevolent reign.

As he rose through the gang's ranks, his notoriety spread like a stain, and his name became synonymous with terror. He was no longer just a boy who had succumbed to darkness; he was a ruthless enforcer of the gang's tyranny—a living embodiment of the city's descent into moral decay.

"If you couldn't tell, he has been this child since before you were born. He was not your friend, but a manipulator who wanted to use you to get close to me or your other mother. And if you need more proof, I can show you-"

"No, it's fine… it's fine."

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