When the London government gathered at the grand hall to speak of peace, the ground itself began to shake. From the far end of the street, Homeless appeared—ragged clothes hanging from his body, but his eyes burning with the fire of the demon within. Guards formed a wall before the ministers, shields raised, rifles loaded. Homeless lifted his head, and the demon's voice growled through him like thunder: "Your lies end here."The first wave of soldiers charged, but the demon surged out of his body, wrapping him in black flames that hissed like living serpents. Every punch he threw shattered shields into splinters; every step cracked the pavement as if the earth bowed under his fury. Blades and bullets vanished into smoke, swallowed by the aura of shadow that cloaked him. When a guard swung a heavy baton, Homeless caught it with his bare hand—the demon's claws flashing—and crushed it into dust.From his chest burst a roar of fire, not ordinary flame but a demon's blaze, dark red and black, scorching the banners that hung over the government steps. The leaders froze, their speeches dying in their throats, as Homeless leapt high into the air, landing with a quake that split the marble floor in half. The demon's wings, half-shadow and half-fire, unfurled behind him, casting a giant, terrifying shape over the men who had built their empire on lies.The guards fell back, trembling, and the ministers stumbled in fear. Homeless, glowing with the power of the beast inside him, pointed a burning hand at them. The demon's voice and his own mixed together, echoing across the city square: "You took my family. You took the lives of the innocent. Tonight, I take everything from you. With one final surge, the demon inside unleashed its true power—an explosion of shadow and fire that swallowed the front lines of soldiers, scattering them like leaves in a storm. The city that had once ignored the beggar now saw him as a walking nightmare, a man and demon fused into one unstoppable force, tearing through the very heart of the government.
(After 2 hours)
The grand hall still burned behind him, smoke rising into the London sky. The government's soldiers lay scattered, and the ministers had fled in terror. Homeless walked away from the chaos, his body trembling, the demon's fire still burning under his skin. The people who once ignored him stared in silence, some in fear, some in awe. But his rage was not yet finished.As he turned down a side street, he heard familiar voices—laughter that cut deeper than bullets. A group of boys lounged by the corner, the same ones who had slapped him when he begged for coins. They had mocked his torn clothes, spit at him, and called him nothing. That memory boiled up now, mixing with the fury of the battle he had just fought. The demon inside growled: "Take them. Let them feel what you felt."Homeless stepped into the light, his shadow stretching long across the cobblestones. The boys froze, their laughter dying when they saw his burning eyes and the smoke rising from his fists. One tried to run, but the demon's power lashed out, shadows from the walls twisting like ropes, dragging him back. Another raised a stick in fear, but Homeless caught it and crushed it to splinters with one hand.He remembered the slap, the sting of humiliation, and the sound of their cruel laughter. Now, with the demon's strength, he struck back. The one who had hit him first was lifted by the throat, flames licking at his collar as he screamed. The others fell to their knees, begging for mercy. But mercy was gone. Only vengeance remained.When the fight ended, the alley lay silent, filled only with the smell of smoke and fear. Homeless stood over the broken boys, his chest heaving, the demon's fire glowing in his veins. He whispered in a voice that was half his own, half the demon's: "You thought I was nothing. Tonight, you learned what nothing becomes."