CLEAVER OF SIN

A chubby boy with black hair and matching black eyes, no older than eighteen, could be seen running frantically into another building through a gaping hole that had been torn open in the wall.

It was Finch.

The moment Finch stepped into the building, danger revealed itself. A monster's claw, sharp enough to rend through steel, tore toward his head with terrifying speed. His instincts screamed, his mind went blank, and in that instant, the world seemed to slow down. Time itself felt suspended, and he could see his life flashing before his very eyes.

Death loomed close, ready to engulf him, but just as the claw was about to slice into his flesh, the ceiling above gave way. With a thunderous crash, it collapsed instantly, tons of concrete and slabs raining down upon the monster. The beast never had a chance. In one instant, it was crushed flat, its body buried under the unforgiving weight of rubble. The creature was squashed to death without Finch lifting so much as a finger.

Finch exhaled shakily, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead.

But he had no time to relax. His ears caught a low, guttural snarl from the side. His black eyes snapped toward the source, and without hesitation this time, he moved. A flash of light gleamed as a long chain materialized in his hands, his soul-bound weapon. With practiced motion, he maneuvered it skillfully, throwing it forward with immense force and blinding speed.

The chain shot ahead like a serpent unleashed, tearing through the air toward the monsters lurking at the side. Startled, they reacted instantly, diving away with surprising agility to avoid the strike. Finch, however, was ready. His grip tightened, and he yanked sharply, pulling the chain back mid-flight. With uncanny control, he adjusted its trajectory in the air.

The chain slammed into one of the monsters with devastating impact, the force reverberating like an explosion. A gaping hole tore open where the links struck, ripping straight through flesh and bone. Blood and innards burst outward, splattering against the ground with a wet thud.

The rest of the monsters shrieked, rage burning in their guttural cries as they rushed him. Finch was already moving. His shoulders twisted, arms pulling the chain back in a smooth motion. The enemies closed in, surrounding him on all sides. He gritted his teeth, planted his feet firmly into the ground, and then spun his chain in a wide, low sweeping arc.

The air itself detonated from the sheer velocity. With a 360-degree sweep, the chain lashed out, striking through the ankles of the monsters around him. Agonized screeches erupted, pain shooting through their bodies as their limbs gave way beneath them. But Finch was merciless. Before they could recover, he gave the weapon another violent pull. The chain rattled and clattered against the earth, then whipped upward in a brutal, final swing aimed at their heads.

The result was gruesome. With sickening cracks and tearing sounds, the monsters' skulls burst like fragile shells. Flesh split apart, bones shattered, and heads exploded in grisly sprays of gore.

Finch narrowed his eyes, about to retrieve his chain, when his instincts screamed again.

'Fuck! Missed one,' he cursed inwardly.

Behind him, the air hissed, the sound of something tearing forward. Without turning, Finch flicked his wrist, his chain snapping backward in a desperate attempt to intercept the attack. But deep down, he knew he was too late. At best, he could only lessen the damage.

Except fate had other plans.

Before the claw could rend into him, a sudden burst of fire surged from the side, engulfing the creature mid-strike. The flames roared hungrily, devouring flesh and fur until the monster's charred body hit the ground with a heavy thud, smoking and unrecognizable.

Finch froze, his chain still taut in his hand. His eyes darted toward the direction the flames had come from. Nothing. No figure. No ally. Just silence.

First, the ceiling had collapsed by pure chance, killing the beast that ambushed him. And now, a random burst of fire had appeared out of nowhere, saving him again.

Anyone else would have frowned, would have questioned the strange coincidences. But not Finch. He didn't even look surprised. Instead, he gave a small smirk. He was used to this. Strange, inexplicable fortune had clung to him ever since his awakening two years ago.

Two years ago, Finch had awakened two abilities. The first was bizarre and difficult to understand, an ability simply called "Good Luck." The second was far more tangible: a soul-bound weapon in the form of an indestructible, infinitely extendable chain.

The "Good Luck" ability was elusive. Finch had no direct control over it, no clear way of activating it. But bizarre events like these, ceiling collapses, random fire bursts, unlikely coincidences that spared his life or made things go in his direction, had occurred far too often for him to ignore. Over time, he had accepted that this mysterious skill was real, even if unpredictable.

His chain, however, was a weapon he trusted without question. It was unbreakable, able to stretch endlessly according to his will. He could expand or shrink its size with a mere thought, molding it into an extension of himself.

And right now, that weapon was his lifeline.

The sound of air splitting thundered in his ears. Finch's sharp gaze snapped to the side. His heart skipped a beat.

Tens of jagged projectiles filled his vision, shooting toward him at terrifying speed.

No hesitation. His hands moved instinctively, wrists circling in perfect rhythm. His chain spun before him like a blur, forming a rotating barrier of steel links.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Each projectile clashed against the chain, sparks flying, deflected harmlessly to the sides. Not a single one touched his body.

'Shit,' Finch thought grimly, eyes narrowing. 'It must have been attracted by the noise.'

His gaze locked onto the source, a massive, grotesque insect floating in the air. Its body pulsed with sickly green light, wings beating so rapidly that the air vibrated under the force. The thing shrieked, a piercing sound that rattled Finch's eardrums.

When its first barrage failed, the monster dove at him, limbs raised, moving with frightening speed.

Finch's heart thundered against his ribs. Sweat drenched his back, soaking through his clothes. His breathing grew sharp, ragged. But his movements didn't pause. He flung his chain upward, the links clattering before embedding themselves into the fractured ceiling above like a grappling hook.

"Up!" he commanded in his mind, and the chain obeyed.

The links shortened, pulling him skyward in a blur of motion. The insect's claws tore through the space where his round stomach had been a moment earlier.

The ceiling groaned under his sudden weight, cracks splintering through it. Dust rained down. It wouldn't hold long. But Finch didn't care. Timing was everything.

As the insect zipped past beneath him, Finch made his move. He swung the other end of his chain downward. The links elongated, expanding into a massive coil that lashed around the monster's thick neck.

The creature shrieked, thrashing violently, but it was already too late. Its speed halted abruptly, momentum broken by the chain's grip. Finch's eyes hardened. With a thought, the metallic rings constricted like a serpent squeezing its prey.

The insect's head erupted, gore and blood showering the ground below.

Finch released his weapon and let the body fall. He dropped down with it, his boots striking the floor with a dull thud. His chest rose and fell heavily, each breath ragged as he struggled to regain rhythm. His body trembled from exhaustion, but his eyes, dark and sharp, remained vigilant.

He was still alive.

For now.