The Drift of Situations

  Something had shifted in Greywick.

  The weight of guilt had crushed the corrupt, twisted the wicked into harmless beings, and left the town in a state of unnatural peace.

  But peace had a problem.

  Without fear, without cruelty, without something to fight against, life became… still.

  It was almost as if the town had been frozen in time.

  Emil watched.

  He understood.

  And somewhere, deep in the shadows, the witch watched too.

  She had waited for this moment.

  For the pact to be fulfilled.

  The priest, broken but desperate, had come to her in the dead of night—before the storm, before Emil’s name had ever touched his lips in prayer.

  “If this boy is what you fear, then he is what I fear too.”

  That was all he had to say.

  That was all she needed.

  A ritual was performed. Blood was offered. A whisper in the dark sealed their fate.

  But Emil had known all along.

  So, as he walked through Greywick, watching people struggle with their own kindness, he let out a small sigh.

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  This world would never be without darkness.

  It could be crippled.

  It could be weakened.

  But never fully erased.

  And so, when the ground trembled beneath his feet, and the sky split open with an unnatural roar, Emil did not flinch.

  The End of Evil (Or Not?)

  Word spread.

  A powerful force—The Nameless One—had sensed the disturbance. The unnatural imbalance.

  And he sent his most ruthless demon to destroy the source.

  It arrived in a plume of black smoke, jagged teeth bared, claws scraping against the air itself.

  Its eyes locked onto Emil.

  And then—it sneered.

  “This ends now.”

  Emil tilted his head.

  “Hello.”

  The demon froze.

  For a moment, it seemed confused. Then its expression contorted in horror.

  It twitched.

  It shuddered.

  Then—it melted.

  Not in fire.

  Not in agony.

  But in something far worse.

  Regret.

  It collapsed into a puddle of remorse, its shape dissolving into nothing but an echo of all its wrongdoings.

  Somewhere, in the depths of the abyss, The Nameless One watched.

  And for the first time in eternity—he felt something he never had before.

  Exhaustion.

  Weakness.

  A trembling realization.

  “This is no boy…”

  His voice cracked.

  “This is my undoing.”

  And with that, the great force of evil collapsed, retreating into shadows too fragile to form.

  The world itself shifted.

  The cruelty that had once pushed humanity forward was now… absent.

  People became lazy.

  Indecisive.

  Even bored.

  Without something to fight against, they lost their will to strive, to create, to become more.

  Emil saw this.

  He understood.

  And so—he left.

  He walked out of Greywick, fading into legend, disappearing without a trace.

  The town would remember him, but they would not know where he had gone.

  And for a while, there was only silence.

  But just before the final page…

  A shadowy figure smiled.

  Because maybe, just maybe—

  Some evils aren’t meant to die.

  [TO BE CONTINUED...]