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"Ivy," he whispered, his voice raw and broken. He smoothed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers lingering on her cold skin. He took in the serene look on her face, the peaceful expression that belied the violent end she had met. The crimson stain that marred her stomach was a brutal accusation, a constant reminder of his failure. "Ivy," he repeated, louder this time, his voice cracking with the effort, as if willing her to respond, as if his sheer force of will could bring her back. But she was gone.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the ravaged castle, Vice released his anguish. The scream that tore from his throat was a primal expression of inconsolable loss, a sound that had never been heard from him, a sound that had been locked away, buried deep within the layers of his hardened heart. It echoed through the night; a haunting melody of sorrow and fury that sent birds scattering from theirnests and made the very earth tremble beneath his feet. His eyes, once capable of radiating cold, calculating cruelty, and recently, a tender light, now burned with a rage so intense it was almost tangible, a tangible force that threatened to consume him entirely.

The sound of his scream pierced the air, a sonic boom of agony that seemed to freeze the chaos around him. The rebels paused, their eyes found him, the legendary supervillain known as Vice, holding the lifeless body of the woman he had claimed as his own, the woman he loved. They had heard tales of his power, of his cruel ruthlessness, of his strategic brilliance, but they had never witnessed his pain. It was a raw, unfiltered display of emotion that stripped away the carefully constructed facade, revealing the fragile, broken man beneath. They saw not a monster, but a man who had lost everything. And in that moment, they understood the true cost of war, the devastating price of love, and the terrifying power of grief.

The sound of a gun cocking behind him brought him back to reality. But Vice remained motionless. Still holding Ivy in his arms. "Looks like the whore got what she deserved," James sneered, his voice thick with malice. "It's too bad she was too stupid to realize who you really are. A monster, not a hero."

Vice's eyes narrowed into slits, his jaw tight with a rage that had never been matched before. He carefully placed Ivy's limp body on the ground. He then turned towards James.

"You will never speak of her like that again," he growled, his voice a deadly promise that sent a shiver down James's spine.

James sneered. "Oh, I think it's a little late for that, don't you?" he taunted, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Look at you, the mighty Vice, pissed off because you're whores dead. You'llfind another one, there a dime a dozen. This time get one that's useful."

The words hit Vice like a sledgehammer, each one a blow to his already shattered heart. He could feel the beast within him stirring, the monster that he had kept caged since he took Ivy, threatening to break free.

Vice, a figure sculpted from living shadow and sharpened by unspeakable cruelty, loomed before James like death made flesh. His presence radiated pure malice, a force so cold it burned. His eyes—twin voids rimmed in hellfire—locked onto James with such venom it made the air between them curdle. Rage bled from every pore, old and hungry, the kind of fury born only from betrayal and buried love.

Raising his hands to the sky, Vice whispered in a language older than sin, each syllable a blasphemy that cracked the air like splintering bone. The ground beneath James howled. It trembled and cracked like spider webs, jagged and wide, vomiting black smoke and unholy light.

From these festering wounds in the earth came the creatures—spawned from Vice’s agony, forged in hellfire. They slithered and clawed into the world, obscene mockeries of life. One dragged itself forward with bone-sheathed fingers, its face a melting mask of teeth and rot. Another twitched with insectile spasms, multiple eyes blinking in no rhythm except madness. They pulsed and writhed like flesh remembering pain.

James stumbled back, gagging on the stench—sulfur, and wet copper. “You... monster,” he rasped, bile and terror choking his words.

He stepped forward, power dripping from his fingers like black ichor. “No James, you’re the monster. You hit her. You broke her. You made her believe she was hard to love. You told her she was too much—when in truth, you were never enough.”

The creatures hissed and shrieked, surrounding James in a circle of teeth and talons. One lunged forward and ripped through his thigh with a sickening rip. He howled, the sound bubbling through the blood pooling in his throat. Vice didn't flinch.

“You had her love,” he growled, stepping closer. “Her fucking love. And you pissed on it. You crushed her spirit, shattered her into pieces, and expected her to smile through it.”

James crawled, trailing blood and entrails, eyes wild. “Mercy,” James whispered, blood dripping from his mouth.

Vice crouched beside him. “This is justice, James. Not mercy. Mercy is for men. You don't qualify.”

With a flick of Vice’s hand, the creatures descended. They didn’t just tear flesh—they shredded memory, dignity, and soul. One ripped into James’s abdomen, spilling his intestines onto the trembling earth like tangled ropes of steaming gore. Another caved in his ribcage, ribs snapping like dry twigs, lungs collapsing in wet gasps. The worst of them gnawed at his face—one eye popped, another peeled like fruit.

James gurgled, blood flooding his throat. He couldn’t even scream anymore. Vice leaned down, his voice a whisper dipped in acid.

“She gave you everything. And you gave her fear and pain.” He stood tall again, arms outstretched as if conducting a symphony of agony. “So now all you’ll feel is fear and pain. You’llbecome it. And when hell opens its jaws to drag you in… I want you to remember the name of the man who loved her enough to burn the world for her.”

The creatures let out a triumphant, guttural roar as they tore James apart, limb from limb—skin flayed, bones broken, organs crushed in hands that dripped with vice-born vengeance.

The earth swallowed what was left of him—screams, flesh, and soul alike. Vice stood over the spot, breathing heavy, blood spattered across his face like war paint. He looked down at the ground, at nothing in particular, and whispered. “That was for her.”

Vice stood amidst the swirling shadows. A malevolent grin, a stark contrast to the ravaged landscape of his grief, was now etched on his face. He had not merely exacted revenge; he had ensured that James experienced the same agonizing helplessness, the same soul-crushing despair, that he had inflicted on the woman he claimed to have loved. He had left behind nothing but the silence of the grave, a desolate testament to his fury and the terrible price of betrayal. The only sound that remained was the soft, almost imperceptible whisper of the wind, carrying away the remnants of James's life like dust, leaving Vice alone with the chilling satisfaction of a debt finally, brutally, paid. Vice turned and walked back to Ivy. He gently picked her up.

For a moment, everything was still. And then, the world resumed its grim dance, the sounds of the castle crumbling. Yet, Vice remained motionless, his world narrowed down to Ivy's lifeless form resting in his arms, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy she once emanated. His eyes are filled with a sorrow so deep it seems to have carved a canyon into his soul. He gently kisses her forehead, feeling the coldness that has settled there.

Vice looked at her lifeless face. The realization hits him like a wrecking ball: he cannot exist in a world without her. The very thought sends tremors through him. A man who has feared nothing now faces the most terrifying prospect of all.

Summoning his inner power, he calls upon the darkest of magic’s, something he has never dared to touch before. His voice echoes through the night, a desperate plea to the void above. The air around him stirs, and the shadows begin to coalesce into a sinister shape. The figure that emerges is a creature from the darkest corner of the earth; it's horrific teeth like sharpened knives and eyes that burned like the flames of hell.

"Good evening, Vice?" the creature hisses, its voice a chilling wind that chills him to the bone. It looms over him, a grotesque being. "Why have you called upon me?"

Vice's grip on Ivy's body tightens, his eyes never leaving hers. "I need you to bring her back," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

The creature chuckles, a sound like gravel being crushed underfoot. "Ah, love. So potent, so fleeting, and so devastating," it hisses, enjoying the torment in Vice's voice. "But are you willing to pay the price?"

"Your soul for her life," the creature hisses, its clawed hand pointed to vice, the shadows around it shimmering with an eerie light. "When you're mortal coil unwinds, it will be mine to claim."