["Born From Nothingness just crossed 15,000 views, on 19th July 2025. Not gonna lie—I'm still figuring this whole thing out. But I'm glad you're here for the journey. Let's see how far this story can go."]
Angelo walked through the halls, chest heavy, the voices of Alex and Emma echoing in his mind.
"You're a monster."
"You're not him."
"Tell him to go away."
"You don't belong here."
Each word dug deeper, gnawing at what was left of him.
Major Connors walked beside him, flanked by a handful of soldiers. He noticed the emptiness in Angelo's eyes and called out, "Hey, kid. You alright? Can you hear me?"
One of the soldiers muttered, "Major, I don't think he can hear you."
They continued down the corridor. Those in their path stepped aside without a word, faces pale, afraid to even breathe too loudly near him. Fear—raw and heavy—followed Angelo like a shadow.
Suddenly, Connors reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Angelo!"
Angelo stopped and turned.
Connors' voice softened. "What will you do now?"
"I… don't know," Angelo said quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need some time to think."
Connors gave a reassuring pat on his back. "Take your time, kid. I'll leave two soldiers with you. I've got some work to finish. If you need anything, tell them—they'll report to me. I'll see what I can do."
Angelo nodded silently and started walking again, two soldiers falling in behind him.
The others lingered. One of them, frowning, asked, "Major… I might be out of line, but… are you really treating him like a human?"
Another chimed in from the back, "Yeah. He's a monster. He attacked our men. And his whole family's still under suspicion for the stampede."
Connors didn't answer immediately. He let the silence hang before speaking in a calm, steady tone.
"The main reason he attacked our men… is because I ordered them to strike first. And not one of them came out injured. As for the stampede—what if he's the one who stopped it? His family says he did, and we don't have proof either way. So tell me—are we accusing the perpetrator or the hero?"
The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks.
One of them muttered, "Still… he's not human, sir. He could turn on us anytime."
Connors turned his gaze on him, sharp but controlled. "Exactly. He could kill us all anytime he wanted. But he hasn't. Which means either he's plotting something… or he truly doesn't want to hurt anyone."
He paused, voice lowering. "And you saw his face, didn't you? His own family called him a monster. Tell me—do monsters look that broken?"
No one spoke after that.
Connors exhaled and started walking toward his post. "Return to your stations, men."
"Yes, sir!" they replied in unison before dispersing down the hall.
Angelo returned to the ruined room. Everything was the same—broken equipment, cracked floors and walls, shattered glass, the splintered mirror, and in the middle of it all, the bed where he had once lain.
The coldness of the walls matched the emptiness inside him. His eyes were still wet, though the tears had stopped falling. Each step felt heavier than the last.
He sat slowly on the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress tightly as if it could anchor him to something real. Questions played in his mind. Why?Why were they so afraid of me?
He stared at his hands—larger, stronger than before. Veins more defined, muscles denser, fingers longer. His body had changed.
But was it just his body… or had something deeper shifted?
The two soldiers stood nearby, avoiding his gaze.
Angelo finally broke the silence.
"What did I do… that made everyone look at me like I'm a monster?"
One of the soldiers flinched, his fingers tightening on the grip of his rifle.
The other whispered, "Dude, he's talking to you. Answer him, quickly."
The first muttered back, "Huh? He's talking to you. You answer."
Angelo looked at the soldier on the left.
"You on the right. I asked you a question. Do you know what happened when I was unconscious?"
The soldier on the left shot a look at his partner and whispered, "May God have mercy on your soul."
The soldier on the right turned around slowly, voice trembling.
"Y-You don't remember… anything?"
Angelo frowned.
"What am I supposed to remember? I blacked out in my home and woke up in this broken room." His voice hardened. "What happened? Tell me everything—start from the day the monsters attacked."
The soldier felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He hesitated, then let out a slow breath.
"Three days ago… we were monitoring the creatures. They were unusually restless. Then all at once, they bolted—tens of thousands of them—rushing in the same direction. We didn't know why, so we followed."
He rubbed his arms, remembering the chill.
"As we followed them, our systems started glitching—screens flickering, controls failing. And then… we felt it. This overwhelming, suffocating presence. It wrapped around us like chains of ice. Breathing became harder, like something massive was watching us, pressing down from every direction. It wasn't just fear—it was wrong. Like the world itself was holding its breath."
"We had to make an emergency landing. After a while, our systems recovered, and we moved forward—slow, cautious. After five minutes, we saw it." His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Everything was gone. Entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble. Craters where homes used to be. Streets cracked open like dry skin. Trees snapped in half or hurled like javelins into walls. Cars were scorched and twisted, some melted into the asphalt. Fires everywhere—still smoldering. The air reeked of smoke, blood, and something unnatural. Something that didn't belong in this world."
Angelo said nothing. His face went pale.
"And the bodies…" the soldier went on, barely above a whisper. "Not just people. Creatures. Thousands of them. Some were sprawled across streets and rooftops. Others tangled in barbed wire or draped over fences. There were no wounds. No blood. Just lifeless, hollow shells.Like something had ripped the soul from them. Their eyes were open—wide, glassy. Some mid-snarl, others mid-scream. But all of them were still. Frozen in their final moments."
He swallowed hard.
"And in the center of that nightmare… was a single house. Everything else had been annihilated—but this place stood almost untouched. The roof was gone, but the walls were intact. Like something had shielded it. Two people stood outside, waving us down. We couldn't believe it. How could they have survived all that?"
Angelo listened intently, his heart sinking with every word.
"We landed and rushed to rescue any survivors. We found people buried in the rubble, crying, barely alive. We brought them all back to base. You… your family… everyone."
The soldier paused, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I need some water. I'll go and get some."
He tried to slip out, but Angelo stopped him.
"Wait. I have some."
Angelo glanced around. An empty bottle sat on the nearby tray. He reached toward it, focused. A soft hum filled the air as the bottle began to fill—slowly, steadily—with clean, clear water rising to the brim.
Both soldiers stared, wide-eyed.
"You… filled it?" one asked, breathless.
Angelo handed it to him.
"It's real. Drink."
The soldier took a cautious sip. His eyes widened.
"It's cold."
"Now, continue," Angelo said quietly.
The soldier set the bottle down on the floor.
"We treated everyone's injuries. Your family—everyone. You… you were different. No wounds, no trauma. But the doctors wanted to be safe, so they tried to insert an IV."
He hesitated. "The needle bent. Then snapped. We tried hardened steel. Same thing. Your skin was… impenetrable."
"The head doctor ordered isolation. Your mother resisted. She screamed. Fought. We had to restrain her. The others tried to stop us too. We detained all of them. For safety."
Angelo clenched his jaw. His eyes burned with anger as he spoke, his voice cold.
"Did you hurt them?"
Both soldiers started trembling.
"N… no, sir. We didn't lay a finger on them. We only questioned them. I swear."
Angelo gave a slow nod. "Go on."
"The higher-ups got involved. When they learned what you were, they demanded answers. We tried more tests, more scans. Nothing worked. But the mark on your back… it was glowing."
"Then it happened. Your heart rate crashed. Panic swept through the med team. The marks pulsed—faster, brighter—and then…" He hesitated. "A shockwave tore through the room. Everyone near you—thrown like rag dolls. Machines smashed. Windows shattered. Power flickered. We hit the ground hard. Some of us didn't get up."
Angelo's breath caught.
"That presence returned. Crushing. Suffocating. You rose—different. Taller. Changed. You looked at us with… something cold. Your eyes weren't yours."
"We aimed our weapons. One of us tried to reason. You responded… calm. Said you wouldn't hurt us. But the major panicked. He gave the order to open fire. So we did."
Angelo closed his eyes.
"You didn't move. All the bullets hit your body. Bullets fell at your feet—leaving not even a scratch. Then… frost. One step, and ice spread from beneath you. It raced across the floor, encasing us from the neck down. Locked in place. Helpless."
The soldier rubbed his arms, still shaking. "Reinforcements arrived. They saw what you'd done. The major told them to stand down. You demanded your family be brought in."
He swallowed. "They came. And they saw it all. The ice. The fear. The power."
He met Angelo's eyes as he opened them, softly.
"That's why they're afraid."
Angelo didn't speak. He didn't move. He just sat there, absorbing the weight of the truth.
They hadn't just seen his strength—they'd seen a force of nature. Something unknowable. Unstoppable. Terrifying.
His breath grew shallow. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
A suffocating silence filled the room.
A single tear hit the floor.
"I never wanted this…" he whispered.
Deep inside the mark, something stirred. Quiet. Patient. Watching.