Zack was a blur of fury and despair, his tense muscles propelling him across the slippery rooftops of houses. Each leap was a silent scream, each landing a dull thud that echoed in his mind. The city, once a familiar labyrinth, now seemed like a sleeping monster, about to awaken. The blood moon, large and menacing, hung in the sky, its crimson glow painting the world with shades of foreboding. Skull. The name, whispered only in forbidden legends, was now a terrifying reality. The most wanted and feared man in the world, the legendary Hunter, felt the icy cold of fear run down his spine, a primal terror he rarely allowed to surface.
"I'm too dependent on it... My God, what do I do?" The question echoed in his mind, a silent lament. The Black Moon, his companion of a thousand battles, his extension, his security, was not with him. The decision to abandon it, made in a moment of conviction, now seemed like madness. He had underestimated the depth of the darkness stirring beneath the surface of Red City. He had been deceived, manipulated, and the ultimate goal was the invocation of Skull. The idea made him stagger, almost losing his balance on a steep roof. The battle he had just fought with the elders was merely a distraction, a cruel farce to keep him busy while the true horror unfolded.
But Zack was no novice. Experience, forged in countless battlefields and confrontations with the unimaginable, whispered in his mind. Despair was a luxury he could not afford. The city was under attack, the threat of Skull was imminent, and he knew the battle awaiting him would be the most intense of his life. He needed focus, calm, clarity. With a fluid movement, he landed on the balcony of an abandoned house. The cold wind whipped his face, but he ignored it. He sat down, crossed his legs in a lotus position, and closed his eyes. His breathing was deep and controlled, a silent mantra to calm the storm raging within him. He needed to reconnect, to reorient himself. And, as always, his mind took him back to the past, to a time before the darkness, before the scars, before he became the Hunter.
---
The darkness of meditation gave way to a soft, welcoming light. Zack found himself in a spacious kitchen, entirely made of light wood, with a polished gleam that reflected the light streaming through the windows. It was a place of elegance and warmth, adorned with paintings depicting a blonde woman with blue eyes and a tall, bearded blonde man, both angelic in their beauty. In the center, between them, a girl with long hair that reached her knees, eyes as blue as crystals submerged in the sea, the most beautiful of all. Sofia.
Zack, a teenager without the scars that would mark his future, smiled. Hope shone in his eyes, and innocence shaped his features. He sat at the dark wooden table, playing with a small wooden cart, imitating the sound of an engine with his mouth. "BAAAAAAAAH!" A loud, sudden noise echoed through the kitchen. Zack, startled, jumped, hitting his knee on the table with a cry of pain. "Aaaah!"
He looked up, and there she was, the girl from the painting, Sofia, laughing, her imperfect but beautiful teeth exposed in a smile he found enchanting. "Damn it, Sofia, that's not funny!" he grumbled, massaging his knee. "Now my knee hurts..." Her laugh was a sob, funny and ugly at the same time, but contagious, making Zack laugh along, despite the pain. "Stop... you hurt me, look at this, it hurts, don't talk to me," he pouted, trying to maintain an offended pose.
Sofia approached, kneeling slowly and placing her hand on his knee. "It's gone... it's gone... while..." she began, in a sweet voice. "I'm not a child!" Zack retorted, maintaining his posture, but a pleasant warmth spread through his body. He liked that touch, that attention. Sofia looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You're a pervert, Zack, are you enjoying it? Taking advantage of a defenseless girl like me!" she said mockingly.
Zack pulled away, his face flushed. "You slut..." He stopped, the word caught in his throat. "You're lucky, Sofia, that I'm in your house and we can't swear here, it's wrong." Sofia let out an ironic laugh. "Poor thing, the brat is so polite..." "Hey!" Zack replied, bumping his face against hers, both close, with playful hatred and bared teeth.
Footsteps approached, and in seconds, their posture changed. Well-behaved, they pretended to play with the cart and the doll, as if they were getting along. Sofia's mother, the blonde woman from the painting, entered the kitchen, a gentle smile on her lips. "How cute! That's why you two get along so well, I'll ask to stay longer next time, Zack." Zack felt his face burn with embarrassment. Sofia's mother turned to him, her blue eyes fixed on his. "Zack, what's your dream? You're getting big, and Sofia is too, what do you plan to do?" Sofia laughed. "Mom, he doesn't even know what he ate today."
Zack took a deep breath, ignoring Sofia's provocation. He looked at the girl, at the innocence in her eyes, and the answer came from the depths of his soul. "I want to give her the freedom to choose and to be free to say no. I will protect Sofia and marry her." The phrase was a bombshell, impactful enough to make Sofia blush, all her mockery disappearing. Sofia's mother laughed with joy, a genuine laugh that, for a brief moment, was followed by an almost imperceptible sad look. Sofia pointed her finger at Zack. "You're poor! You have no money! Weak! You think you can marry me!" Zack looked at her with a simple gaze. "Yes!"
Sofia's mother laughed again, but this time, without sadness. She knelt down, looking into Zack's eyes. "I entrust her to you, Zack," she said, a smile on her face, surprising both Zack and Sofia. Sofia's mother left the kitchen, going upstairs. Zack, awkward, scratched his head. The situation was strange, but he liked it. Sofia nudged him, her face angry. Zack thought: "Damn it." "Do you promise? Will you really marry me?" Sofia asked, serious, without a smile, as she raised her pinky finger. Zack, who expected to be cursed at, approached and intertwined his pinky with hers. "I promise! I will give you the power to say no!" he said, looking fixedly into her eyes. She smiled, a beautiful, perfect smile, and this time, a smile of pure happiness. "I can say yes..." Sofia replied, and both laughed, the laughter filling the kitchen. Upstairs, hidden behind a wall, Sofia's mother laughed softly, her eyes filled with tears. "Good job, Zack, good boy," she whispered.
---
The soft light of memory shattered, broken by a dry, brutal sound. The scene cut to a few days in the future, but it felt an abyss of light-years away from that happy kitchen. It was night. The kitchen window, once a portal to light, was now open to darkness, and the cold, indifferent white light of the moon bathed the room. The wind howled fiercely, like a lament, and a dense fog covered everything, except the waning moon, which shone yellow, like a macabre smile in the sky. From Sofia's house, there was no laughter, but noises. Noises of violence. "Thwack!!" "THWACK!!" "THWACK!!" "BOOM!" "BOOM!" "CRACK!" Sounds of flesh against flesh, bones against wood, glass breaking.
Inside the house, the blonde man from the painting, Sofia's father, was no longer the angel of memory. He was a demon, his fists repeatedly striking Sofia's mother's face, his wife. "You whore!! You damn bitch!" He snarled, each word a blow. "You made me look bad at the meeting, what kind of clothes were those?" He ran his hand over her face, a gesture of cruel mockery. "Huh?" She couldn't speak, she was too hurt, her face disfigured, her mouth swollen. "I told you to sleep with the General... but you didn't, you filthy whore!!" She had no reaction, her body didn't respond, only her eyes, from which tears of fear and dread streamed. Her husband took pleasure in humiliating and assaulting her, something that was already routine, a spectacle of cruelty that repeated incessantly.
Outside, in the street, the fog was so dense that one could barely see a hand's breadth ahead. But from the mist, two figures emerged, running desperately towards the house. Sofia, with a black eye, bleeding nose, and dislocated delicate shoulder, held Zack's hand. She had been mistreated by her father while trying to protect her mother. "He's in there hitting her... just get Mom and take her out of here like last time..." Sofia gasped, her voice choked with tears and pain. Zack looked at her injuries, at the innocence stained by violence, and a knot formed in his throat. He kissed her face, a gesture of comfort that seemed useless in the face of so much pain. "It's gone... it's gone..." he whispered, the words sounding empty. "Wait on the swing under the tree and don't go in, understood?" Sofia, anxious, tried to argue. "But what about you..." Before she could finish, Zack interrupted her, his voice firm and intimidating, a tone she had never heard. "Do as I say, understood?!" Sofia trembled, scared, and ran to the swing, the image of her mother in danger etched in her mind.
---
Inside the house, the horror continued. Sofia's father, a sadistic smile on his lips, savored every detail of his wife's humiliation. "I won't kill you, you whore, because I need you to sleep with the General, you'll only survive because of that delicious body." Sofia's mother, Isabella, lay on the floor, her eyes empty, the light of hope fading. Her crying had ceased, replaced by a silence of resignation. But then, a sound. "CLACK!! BANG!!" The bedroom door burst open violently, and Zack appeared, a furious shadow. Isabella, in a last flicker of maternal instinct, tried to hold her husband back, fearing he would kill Zack, or beat him as he had her.
Sofia's father, unfazed, looked at Zack with a cruel smile. "Well, well, well, a rat back in its hole..." He laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Boy, you're only alive because Isabella made a deal with me... Sofia is really happy to have you around, so... Isabella made a request, she would sleep with whoever I wanted in exchange for you staying here with Sofia." The words fell like stones on Zack, a child who, until then, had only known innocence. But at that instant, something broke inside him. His gaze changed, transforming. It was no longer the gaze of a boy, but that of a rabid dog, a demon, a killer. The cruelty of the revelation was a poison spreading through his veins.
Sofia's father continued, oblivious to the transformation he had provoked. "I'm thinking, I'll use Sofia in the future..." Isabella screamed, a lament of rage and despair, her tears falling like rain. Her daughter could not go through that. "Don't look at me like that, Zack, relax, you'll be the first to use Sofia, I'm generous, see?" The repulsive phrase, spoken by her own father, made Zack's stomach churn. He looked at Isabella, who whispered, her voice almost failing: "Please, Zack... save me..."
Sofia's father tried to silence her, but before he could, a kick from Zack hit him in the chest with brutal force, throwing him against the wall. He hit with a dull thud, spitting blood. "What the hell is this!" he shouted, but Zack was already in front of him, too fast, a blur of fury. He grabbed the man's throat, squeezing so hard that the veins in his head became visible, pulsing. The man, desperate, pulled out a switchblade and began stabbing Zack in the stomach, repeatedly. Blood gushed, staining the floor, and Isabella screamed, a sound of pure terror. "NOOOOOOOOO!" she shrieked.
Sofia's father began to smile, believing he had won, but soon realized that Zack had not released his neck. His eyes widened in horror as he looked down. Zack's eyes were not those of a child, but those of a predator, cold, empty, filled with an ancestral darkness. "What are you!!" he screamed, kicking his feet on the floor, losing air. Isabella realized that Zack was no longer bleeding. A dark and terrifying energy emanated from him, healing his wounds. "You will suffer, I will abuse you... yes... I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE AFRAID OF, YOU'RE AFRAID OF BEING LIKE YOUR PREY." Zack's voice was not that of a child, but that of someone with experience in torture, an icy whisper that promised a personal hell. The man begged for forgiveness, offered money, but Zack merely laughed, a laugh so loud it echoed in the room, filled with darkness, making the man's despair even greater. Zack looked at a wooden curtain rod and then smiled at Sofia's father. It was easy to understand, and he understood. Zack threw him, breaking the wall and sending him into the next room. Then, Zack picked up the wooden rod.
---
Zack approached Isabella, who lay on the floor, bruised and vulnerable, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of fear and hope. "SOFIA IS ON THE SWING, GO TO HER, I'LL HANDLE THIS." His voice was calm, but carried an authority Isabella had never heard. She was scared of Zack, he was someone she didn't know, her body trembled with fear. But Zack held her hand gently, and a dark, warm energy enveloped her, healing her completely. The wounds disappeared, the pain vanished, and Isabella found herself perfect again. She didn't question, she accepted, because Zack was saving her and Sofia. In a gesture of gratitude and relief, Isabella hugged Zack and kissed his forehead. "Good boy," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Isabella ran outside, towards Sofia. Outside, under the waning moon that now seemed less macabre, mother and daughter embraced. Sofia, her injuries healed by Zack's energy, looked at her mother with relief. Together, they pushed the tree swing, a soft, rhythmic sound that contrasted brutally with the screams coming from inside the house. Loud screams of despair, forgiveness, plea, clemency. Sofia's father begged God to save him, but inside, there was no God, only a demon. The sound of dry blows, cracking bones, and the crying of a broken man echoed in the night, a testament to Zack's relentless fury.
The scene ends with the image of Zack's lost innocence, and the birth of his darkness, which transformed him into the "Hunter" he is today. The echo of Sofia's father's screams, the image of mother and daughter on the swing, and the awareness of Zack's transformation, leave the reader with a disturbing sense of horror and a deeper understanding of the brutality that shaped the protagonist. Zack's past is revealed as the root of his brutality and his fear of becoming like his prey, a theme that resonates with his dependence on the Black Moon and his struggle to maintain control. Zack's meditation ends, and he opens his eyes, no longer those of an innocent teenager, but the cold, calculating eyes of the Hunter, ready to face the threat of Skull, but now with an even greater weight on his soul.