Devon stared at the run-down apartment, its cracked walls and sagging roof looking like it had stood for millennia.
He headed to the back of the building, grabbed a few worn clothes from a pile, and slipped into an alley, moving quickly to avoid notice. He stayed there until darkness fell, studying his unfamiliar body.
Now reverted to his 14-year-old self—his past self from this timeline—he was lean, with blue curly hair tipped black and matching blue eyes. The sight stirred nostalgia. This was him before the change… before he became the cold, heartless monster known as Devon Veyron.
Staring into a puddle of water, he saw his reflection and frowned, his face twisting like shredded paper. He hated this body, this face—they dragged him back to a past he wanted to bury, a weak, fearful self he despised most.
"I don't have much time left. In the next two hours, I will lose the tiny bit of remnant Nexus I have left," he muttered.
What was he waiting for?
He was waiting for the other Devon—the young Devon of this timeline.
This world could only hold one Devon.
So one had to go.
Minutes passed, and Devon grew impatient. He was about to move when the door swung open.
Young Devon stepped out barefoot.
Devon followed him quietly, guiding his path through the shadows until they reached a deserted alley.
"Hey—"
The boy turned.
Their eyes met.
Young Devon froze.
It was like staring into a mirror… except one side was empty.
Young Devon knew.
The figure that bore his face… was going to kill him.
He stepped back.
Devon walked forward.
Then he ran.
"Help! Somebody help me!"
His voice echoed through empty streets as he bolted out of the alley. No one came. No one answered.
He kept running until he reached a corner, diving beside a dumpster, trying desperately to control his breathing.
Silence.
Then—
Devon appeared beside him.
"You wouldn't believe how futile all this running is…" Devon said calmly.
Young Devon shot up and ran again, faster this time, his heart pounding violently. He kept looking back, expecting him to appear again.
But instead—
A truck roared from behind.
Too late.
Before impact—
He was yanked away.
Devon held him by the collar.
The boy broke.
"Please… I don't want to die… please… I did nothing wrong… I promise I won't say anything… please…"
His voice cracked, tears streaming uncontrollably.
Devon said nothing.
He just stared.
Into his own past.
"I'm sorry…" Devon said quietly, his voice barely steady. "But I can't stop now."
He pulled off his glove and placed his hand on the boy's head.
"Stay still… you won't feel a thing."
Young Devon trembled—
then slowly stopped resisting.
"Elucin."
The body dissolved into blue particles.
Gone without pain.
Gone without a trace.
Devon stood there for a moment.
Then turned.
And walked back toward the apartment.
He had one hour left before his last bit of Nexus faded, leaving him a true 14-year-old human.
Wearing a white tunic and torn shorts, he stepped inside.
There, sitting lazily on a worn couch, was his father—drunk, unshaven, watching TV.
"Devon, you're back. Did you get it?"
Devon ignored him and walked closer.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" his father snapped, standing. "You know the drill. If you don't find the cigarettes, you keep walking until you do—"
Devon looked at him.
Something in his eyes made the man pause.
"What is that look?" he said, raising his hand.
Devon caught it.
Easily.
The man tried to pull free.
He couldn't.
Devon applied pressure, forcing him to his knees.
"In every reality… you are the unchanging constant," Devon said.
A bitter smile crossed his face.
"You are not my son…" the man muttered. "What are you? And why the fuck are you in his damn body?"
"Of course I am," Devon replied. "I'm just not the son you raised to obey like a dog."
Silence.
"Every memory of you… is pain."
His father's expression twisted.
Then—he smiled.
"My son, my ass… you're a monster, a demon from hell."
Devon looked at him for a long moment.
Then pulled him into a hug.
"From one demon to another… I will see you in hell."
"Tenebrin."
Light erupted.
The body burst.
Blood. Flesh. Silence.
Devon stood still, unmoved. He cleaned himself with Nexus, then lifted what remained, preparing to stage it as an accident.
As he got to work, he heard footsteps. It was getting closer. It was approaching the house.
He moved toward the door.
He won't kill who don't deserve it—but he won't let anyone get in his way, either.
Just as he prepared his spell—
He paused.
He recognized her.
In this forsaken world, he remembered her.
His eyes stared in disbelief.
A woman in a simple dress, a handbag to her side, her hair a bit rumpled.
She walked quietly toward the front door.
"Mom."