From Humiliation to Godhood

2: The Trap

Leon woke to the taste of blood and the rhythmic pounding of rain against the ceiling. His entire body throbbed, pain radiating from every limb like he’d been shattered and pieced back together wrong. He was tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, dimly lit by flickering lights.

Victor stood in front of him, rolling up the sleeves of his expensive suit.

“You know, I wasn’t planning to kill you,” Victor mused, stepping closer. “But then I thought… why not? It’s not like anyone will miss you. Your wife? She’ll move on. Your in-laws? They’ll celebrate. And me? Well, I’ll finally take what’s mine.”

Leon looked at Victor, his gaze tired. “Why are you doing this? Please, let me go,” he begged, struggling weakly against the restraints.

“Let you go?” Victor let out a sharp chuckle, shaking his head. “So you can go back to playing house with a family that despises you?! If I were in your shoes, I’d have put a bullet in my own head.”

Leon spat blood onto the floor, his breath ragged. His expression was one of pure exhaustion. “I married Isabella because I love her. Why is it so damn hard for everyone to just let us be?”

Victor’s fist crashed into Leon’s face.

Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “You were never supposed to be here. Isabella was meant for me. Not some worthless street rat who doesn’t know his place. I don’t know what you did to her, but I’m going to fix it. Once you’re dead, she’ll have no choice but to move on… with me. It’s that simple.”

“And you're really gonna kill me?” Leon questioned in disbelief. “Go to hell.”

Victor’s eyes darkened. He grabbed a rusted metal pipe from the ground and swung it. Crack! The impact shattered one of Leon’s ribs.

Leon screamed, his body jerking against the restraints.

Victor let out a sigh. “Why are you trying to act tough with me, huh? The only thing you’ve ever done is grovel at the Hartwells’ feet. You were nothing more than a glorified servant in their house. Let’s see how tough you really are when I break every bone in your body.”

Leon was scared, and his voice trembled. “P-please… let’s talk about this…”

He tried to beg but the next ten minutes were hell. Victor and his men took turns beating him senseless, each blow sending shards of agony through his battered body. His face swelled, his vision blurred, and every breath became a struggle.

Victor, unfazed, stretched out his hand. “Give me the knife.”

One of his men quickly obeyed, placing a blade in Victor’s palm.

Panic enveloped Leon’s bruised face. “What… what are you going to do with that?” he stammered. “Haven’t you done enough? Just let me go… please… I’m begging you…”

Victor smirked, and pressed the cold steel against Leon’s throat, leaning in close.

“This is the end for you,” Victor whispered. “No one will ever know what happened. They’ll just find a corpse.”

Leon’s eyes widened in terror. “Don’t do this… don’t—”

Then, with one swift motion, he slit Leon’s throat.

Leon felt the warmth of his own blood spilling down his chest. His body convulsed as he choked for breath. Then the pain began to fade, his vision blurring.

The last thing he saw was Victor’s satisfied grin before his head slumped forward.

Victor breathed out, wiping the blade clean with a cloth. “You’re out of my life now, Leon,” he said with a smirk. “I still can’t believe you were ever competition for me. But don’t worry… I’ll take good care of your wife. Do whatever I want with her, in fact.” He chuckled, pleased with himself.

Then, turning to his men, he gave his final order. “Take him outside into the rain. Dump the body far from Wale Street. Make sure no one finds him too soon.”

—

The rain fell hard, drenching the lifeless body lying on the pavement. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the heavens themselves were mourning.

Leon’s eyes were wide open, and vacant.

It was late and darkness had enveloped the place.

Then a sudden bright light appeared from nowhere, making its way toward where his motionless form lay.

A voice followed.

“At last… a worthy vessel. Rise, my vessel…”

Suddenly, a pulse of dark energy erupted from Leon’s corpse, cracking the pavement beneath him. The rain halted midair, frozen in time.

His body twitched.

Then his fingers curled into a fist.

His eyes that were opened blazed to life, glowing silver.

“I… am… back…” he murmured.

And just like that, the rain resumed its downpour, hammering against his skin.

His eyes immediately tightened with a sharp gasp, his brows knitting together as he instinctively raised an arm to shield his eyes from the rain.

With a groan, he sat up, soaked to the bone.

“Damn…” he muttered, shaking his head. “Who the hell leaves someone to die in the rain? Wicked.”