EVIL SYSTEM

The elevator couldn't reach the top floor. If only it had.

Part of the upper section of the mall was half-destroyed, and none of them wanted to take the risk.

They only went up to the 21st floor.

---

"I know many of you are wondering, 'What's happening?'" A handsome man with long hair tied back in a ponytail paced atop a podium. He was tall, lean but broad-shouldered, with a tattered black coat billowing behind him. His face was marked by scars, but his gray eyes—cold yet burning with something that wasn't hate, but the certainty of someone who always commanded the scene—dominated everything. A trimmed beard framed a smile that wasn't quite mocking, but defiant. In his left hand, a pistol hung loosely, as if he didn't need it. "Why are we in this situation? What do these people want?"

The man gestured around the grand hall, where his armed men stood, weapons trained on the crowd.

"The answer is simple…" The man leaned into the microphone, staring intently at them for a second before letting it go. "We just want freedom."

The crowd of people couldn't understand his words and began talking among themselves.

"What kind of freedom are you talking about?" A man stepped forward and looked at Michael, hesitant to speak. "No one here is a slave lacking freedom. Those days ended long ago."

"You're wrong, my friend." The long-haired man wagged his finger side to side with a smile. "You're a slave. She's a slave… I'm a slave."

The man paced on the podium, shaking his head. "Don't you get it?"

"They've got us under control, making us believe we're free when we're still slaves with no right to choose our fate or our leaders." The man pointed to several billboards displaying the candidates for president of Venzia.

"We vote for who'll be president," a man in the crowd shot back.

"Sure, that's what they make you believe." Michael shrugged and pointed to each of the candidates on the posters. "But… who chose these candidates?"

The people fell silent.

"You only choose from the candidates they've already picked." Michael laughed with contempt. "They don't care if we know the truth. They're so proud of what they are, they don't even bother hiding it. Their arrogance is exceptional."

Michael drove his fist through a billboard of Doug, shattering it.

"We're here to show this totalitarian government they can't do whatever they please with us." He shouted at the top of his lungs, seeking people in the crowd who might share his ideology.

But they were too scared to think about politics.

"This government rewards the strong and preys on the weak." Michael spread his arms wide. "And that's simply because they are the strong."

"This country shouldn't be ruled by the one with the strongest fist or the best friends." Fanaticism dripped from Michael's voice. "Nor by what the majority thinks or votes for. This country should be governed by the most intelligent and capable for the job. The day that happens, we can become one of the greatest nations in the world."

"You're just another lunatic. This isn't the way to seek change," a voice from the crowd replied.

Michael laughed, a dry, joyless sound. "Lunatic? No, no. I'm just clearing the board. Look around you. Magnolia is a bloated corpse, rotting from the inside. Crapp and his kind sit on their thrones, playing with magic they don't deserve, while people like us, like you, crawl in the filth, begging for scraps."

"This isn't the way, you say?" he asked with sarcasm and anger in his voice. "And what other way do we have? When we held peaceful marches seeking change, they massacred us. They worship strength above all, and maybe if we show them our strength, they'll take us seriously."

"And your plan is to blow it all up? Kill children? Crush families under buildings? You're worse than them." A young man, standing apart and handcuffed, shouted with rage.

Many in the crowd recognized him as Kael Draven, the Black Lightning.

His long black hair hid his expression, but the fury in his voice was uncontainable. Even handcuffed with anti-magic cuffs, he struggled and fought constantly with force.

Michael tilted his head, as if considering the accusation. "Change has a price. It always does. Crapp kills without blinking to protect his power. I kill to destroy it. The difference is, I don't pretend my hands are clean." He raised his pistol, not to aim, but to point at the burning horizon visible through the mall's shattered windows. "Every explosion, every building that falls, is a nail in the coffin of this sick city. When we're done, nothing of their world will remain. And from the ashes, we'll build one where no one has to kneel."

Kael clenched his teeth, furious.

"You're insane… This isn't justice, it's butchery."

Michael looked at him for a second.

"You don't understand, and you never will." Michael circled him, his brow furrowed. "You've always been handsome and talented. In this society, you've always gotten the best, and you don't have a damn clue what ordinary people have to endure day after day."

"You understand, don't you? You're like me. A man the world kicked until he learned to fight back." Michael stood before the crowd. "Join me. With your power, we can end this faster. We can make it worth it. Because we're not here to ask for permission—we're here to claim what's ours: the power to decide."

Some in the crowd began to resonate with his ideals. People who had been mistreated and belittled by those more powerful and talented than them.

---

Climbing the stairs, Ben kept glancing at Dante, who still had that unnatural calm in such a dire situation.

Even he, someone who had been through a lot and was getting used to violence, couldn't remain indifferent to what was happening around him.

Touching the key in his pocket, Ben had a strong premonition, and as he paused to rest, he confronted him. This time, he wasn't leaving without answers.

"Are you going to tell me once and for all what's going on and how you know?"

Dante looked at him, unsure how to respond.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me." Ben smiled confidently. "Trust me, I've been through some incredible things. Nothing you say will surprise me."

Dante looked at him, and slowly his expression darkened as he pulled Ben aside.

"Whatever I tell you doesn't matter." Dante looked at him with an empty expression. "Because you won't live past tomorrow."

Ben froze, completely stunned. He understood the words but couldn't make sense of what he was hearing.

"I'm going to die?" he asked, still unable to believe it.

"Yes." Dante nodded without changing his expression. "Not just you. Everyone will die."

Silence hung between the two.

"I can't believe it." Ben shook his head. "You don't know my full power. If you did, you wouldn't say that."

Dante looked at him without changing his expression. "I do."

Ben narrowed his eyes.

"I've seen you use all your strength and still fail." Dante glanced at the ceiling, a few floors below the grand hall where Michael had given his speech. "No matter how hard you try, you can't beat him. Not your four elements, not your gifts, not your martial arts. Nothing you do matters. If you face him, only death awaits you."

Ben's breath hitched slightly as he realized Dante knew about his four elements and perhaps also that he was the Butcher of Azakur.

"Yes." Dante nodded, as if he could read what was on his mind. "I know you're the Butcher of Azakur, and I really don't care."

Dante began to smile strangely.

"People are happier in a world where the Butcher of Azakur exists."

Ben refused to accept that he could be killed so easily. Maybe he wasn't all-powerful, but he thought he could put up a good fight against an advanced mage, and if it came to escaping, it wouldn't be too hard.

But he still remembered a phrase Dante had once told him, which he had ignored at the time.

*I'm not saying that just because everyone believes something it's necessarily true, but if there are so many versions warning of the same thing, you have to be careful.*

Back then, he hadn't paid attention to the warning and had challenged one of the horrors.

Even if there was a small chance that what Dante said was true, he wanted to avoid it at all costs.

"So, can't we just take another path and avoid meeting whoever will kill me?" Ben asked, curious.

"It doesn't work." Dante looked at the ceiling. "On the roof of this building, there's a helicopter, and it's the only option we have to save ourselves."

"A helicopter?" Ben raised an eyebrow. "How are we going to fly it?"

"I know how to fly." Dante replied.

"You know how to fly a helicopter and never told me?"

"You never asked."