The Paralyzed Man's Revenge

Remnants of Destruction

The neon lights on the hospital corridor ceiling flashed rapidly above my head, like frozen bolts of lightning. The pungent smell of antiseptic pierced my lungs, replacing the scent of wet earth and blood from Glencoe. The sound of gurney wheels creaking on the linoleum floor blended with the panicked shouts of the nurses.

"Patient one, male, eighteen, spinal trauma and hypothermia!" a paramedic shouted.

"Patient two, female, ten, massive hemorrhaging, compound fractures in both lower legs! Blood pressure is plummeting!"

Arthur could only stare at the ceiling, letting his body go limp as they transferred him onto a hospital bed. Arthur caught a glimpse of Lily’s gurney being pushed in a different direction, toward the operating room. Her small face was covered by a fogged-up oxygen mask.

"Lily..." Arthur whispered, his voice nearly gone.

"Calm down, son. We’re going to help her," an old nurse said, looking at Arthur with eyes filled with sickening pity. "You’re safe now. You’re at Glasgow General."

Safe? Arthur wanted to laugh. Nowhere was safe as long as Alistair McAlister was still breathing out there. However, he closed his eyes tight, letting them think he was in shock. Behind that darkness, he could feel the system pulsing within his mind, waiting.

Two hours later, a middle-aged man in a white coat smelling of coffee entered my ward. His name was Dr. Graham, according to the name tag on his pocket. He let out a long sigh before sitting in the chair beside Arthur’s bed.

"Arthur, can you hear me?" he asked softly.

Arthur opened his eyes slowly, staring at him with a practiced, blank gaze. "Where is my sister? How... how is Lily?"

Dr. Graham paused for a moment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose a gesture that explained everything. "Your sister is out of surgery. We managed to save her life, but..."

"But what, Doctor?" Arthur’s heart hammered. This time, his fear wasn't an act.

"The damage to her bones and motor nerves is severe. Julian... I mean, the driver... the impact crushed her structure. The chances of Lily ever walking again are very slim, Arthur. She will likely be dependent on a wheelchair forever."

Arthur’s world felt like it stopped spinning. Even though he already knew what that bastard Julian had done, hearing it directly from a doctor’s mouth felt like a dagger being twisted in his wound.

"A wheelchair?" Arthur’s voice trembled. "She’s only ten."

"We’re sorry. We’ll do our best with physical therapy later," Dr. Graham patted Arthur’s shoulder. "And about your condition... the scans show your nerve paralysis is permanent, just as it was before the accident. There’s no change. It seems you didn't sustain any new fatal injuries, but you will remain in the same condition."

Arthur nodded weakly, pretending to be devastated. Yet under the blanket, he could feel the tip of his big toe moving freely. The System had repaired what for years had been considered a medical impossibility.

Before Arthur could process any of it, the ward door swung open roughly. Two men in police uniforms walked in with overconfident strides. They didn't bring empathy; they brought the pungent stench of cigarette smoke and corruption.

"Arthur McAlister? I’m Inspector Miller, and this is Sergeant Reid," said the heavier man, without removing his hat. "We’re here to take a statement regarding the hit-and-run incident in Glencoe."

Arthur glared at them. "Hit-and-run? My mother died there. My sister is broken. That wasn't just a hit-and-run. My father was there. Alistair McAlister was there!"

Miller exchanged a look with Reid, then pulled out a small notebook. "Listen, kid. We’ve checked the scene. It was raining hard last night. An eyewitness a passing truck driver said he saw a black sedan lose control and hit you. There is no evidence of a Rolls-Royce or Mr. Alistair being there."

"Eyewitness?" Arthur hissed, trying to suppress the rage exploding in his chest. Hate Points in his system began to chime softly. "That truck driver is lying! He must have been paid off!"

"Watch your mouth, Arthur," Sergeant Reid interrupted in a threatening tone. "Mr. Alistair is a respected man. He was even at an official dinner banquet in Edinburgh when the incident occurred. There are dozens of witnesses who saw him there. These accusations of yours could be considered defamation."

"He killed my mother!" Arthur screamed, trying to get up but remembering he had to pretend to be paralyzed. Arthur slumped back onto his pillow, panting. "All of you... you’re all under his thumb, aren't you?"

Miller leaned in, bending down until his face was only inches from Arthur’s. His voice dropped to a cold whisper. "The world is a harsh place, kid. Sometimes it’s better to take the insurance settlement and keep quiet than to end up in the same ditch as your mother. This case will be closed as an accident due to bad weather. Understand?"

Arthur stared into Miller’s yellowed eyes. He saw the reflection of a broken young man in Miller’s eyes, but within his soul, he saw tombstones engraved with the names of those demons.

"I understand," Arthur said flatly, his voice now sounding cold.

"Good. Smart boy." Miller patted Arthur’s hand roughly and signaled for Reid to leave. "We’ll send the documents for you to sign tomorrow."

After they left, the room fell silent again. Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the void. Arthur closed his eyes, letting time pass. Twelve hours. He waited until night fell and the hospital grew quiet.

Exactly at midnight, Arthur opened his eyes. Moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, illuminating his motionless legs under the blanket. He could feel power beginning to flow a dark energy waiting to be unleashed.

System, he called out internally.

A blood-red transparent screen appeared instantly, cutting through the darkness of the night.

[Status: Stable.]

[Vengeance Points: 50.]

[Inventory: 1 Item Detected.]

Arthur directed his thoughts to the Inventory menu. An icon of a small bottle surrounded by black mist appeared.

[Vial of Shadow Mending: A low-grade medicine capable of healing tissue damage and drastically accelerating cell regeneration in the darkness.]

Arthur’s trembling hand reached into his hospital gown pocket. His fingers touched the cold glass surface. It was really there. A small bottle containing a thick, black liquid that glowed faintly.

Arthur stared at the bottle, then looked toward the door of the room where Lily was being treated at the end of the hall. The doctor said she would never walk again. The police said his mother died in an accident. Alistair thought he was just trash waiting for the end.

Arthur opened the bottle's cap. A sharp scent of death and life intermingled.

"The game begins, Daddy," he whispered, staring at the black liquid. "And I won't be playing by your rules."

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor, heading toward Arthur’s room. He quickly hid the bottle under his pillow and closed his eyes, his heart pounding in the midst of the chilling night silence.