《Malphas》


 Chapter 1

    Born to a middle-class family, Malphas had everything a child could ask for. His parents weren¡¯t strict or cold-hearted ¡ª they provided a normal life where he was never hungry, never neglected. Yet, something sinister had taken root in their home. Malphas was no ordinary child. He was a spawn of pure evil, a force that defied the warmth and love of a normal family.


    His darkness emerged when he was just two years old. a weak, injured crow had fallen onto their balcony. Most children would have called for help or shown curiosity. But Malphas didn¡¯t hesitate. He grabbed the helpless bird and began smashing it against the floor with unnatural joy. Blood splattered as bones cracked, yet he giggled ¡ª a chilling sound that echoed in the air. His parents dismissed it as childish ignorance, never realizing it was the first kill that awakened the monster within.


    As he grew older, his obsession with killing deepened. Stray cats and dogs became his victims. He didn¡¯t know why he was drawn to it, but killing became routine. It gave him a sense of satisfaction that nothing else could. His parents were unaware of the carnage, but the truth surfaced when an elderly neighbor saw him disposing of a mutilated cat. She confronted his family, bringing the gruesome evidence.


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    His father¡¯s face turned pale with anger, and his mother¡¯s voice trembled with disbelief. They scolded Malphas, hoping discipline would change him. But his cold, emotionless stare gave them no comfort. His mind wasn¡¯t filled with guilt ¡ª it was filled with rage toward the old woman who had dared to expose him.


    Malphas had been reading anatomy books for months, fascinated by the weak points in the human body. He learned where arteries lay, where a strike could cripple or kill. He wasn¡¯t just reading for knowledge ¡ª he was preparing.


    That night, he took a steel bat from home and followed the old woman as she went for her usual evening walk. She never noticed him. Malphas struck her from behind, aiming for the back of her knee ¡ª precisely where the artery pulsed. She collapsed instantly, unable to scream. He stood over her, his small frame trembling with excitement. But that wasn¡¯t enough.


    Her body was on the ground, but Malphas wanted more. He climbed onto her back and started bashing her skull with the bat. Blow after blow, he cracked her skull open until her brains were splattered on the pavement. He didn¡¯t stop until her face was unrecognizable.


    Malphas was caught quickly. He was too young to understand how to hide the evidence. His clothes were soaked in blood, and the body was left in plain sight. His parents were summoned to the police station, where they saw the true face of their son.


    The shock in their eyes wasn¡¯t just fear ¡ª it was something deeper. It was the realization that they had given a birth to a monster. Their voices trembled as they spoke to him one last time. ¡°You you¡¯re not our son¡± His father¡¯s words echoed in the cold room.


    They never visited him again.


    Malphas was sent to juvenile detention,

 Chapter 2

    Malphas entered the cold, dimly lit cell, his senses immediately alert. His cellmate, a wiry boy with a twisted grin, sat casually on the lower bunk.


    "Yo, newbie," the cellmate said with an unnervingly friendly tone. "You¡¯re lucky, kid. I¡¯ll show you how things work here. Stick with me, and you¡¯ll be safe."


    Malphas nodded, but his instincts screamed danger. His gut told him there was something wrong. Later, during their prison work shift, he overheard the truth.


    "Why¡¯re you being nice to that new kid?" one of the older inmates asked with a sneer.


    The cellmate smirked. "That brat? I¡¯m gonna violate him tonight. Make him my little pet before he even knows what¡¯s happening."


    That was all Malphas needed to hear. His mind went blank, but his heart pounded with cold determination. He knew he had no choice. Either he became prey or he took control.


    During the evening meal, while the guards were distracted and careless as always, Malphas carefully slipped a plastic spoon into his sleeve. They never bothered counting them¡ªafter all, they were just kids. But Malphas had no intention of digging out of prison.


    He had another plan.


    Once back in the cell, while his cellmate hummed a disturbing tune, Malphas quietly rubbed the spoon against the rough floor, over and over, until it formed a jagged, makeshift weapon. He worked under the cover of darkness, sharpening it to the point where it could pierce flesh.


    Night came. Malphas pretended to be asleep, breathing steadily, waiting.


    His cellmate thought everything was going perfectly. He crept toward Malphas, looming over him in the darkness. But Malphas was ready.


    The moment he felt the shift in the air, Malphas rolled over and plunged the sharpened spoon straight into the cellmate¡¯s jaw. The initial stab was shallow, but it was enough to send the bastard into a panic.


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    "Arghhh¡ª" he grunted, trying to recoil, but Malphas wasn¡¯t done.


    Before the cellmate could regain his senses, Malphas shoved his fingers into his eyes, deep and merciless. The bastard¡¯s body spasmed, his screams muffled as Malphas stuffed a blanket into his mouth. Blood trickled from his jaw as he thrashed under Malphas¡¯s grip. But that wasn¡¯t enough.


    Malphas poked his finger into his eyes he screamed in pain he was about to pull himself then suddenly malphas wrapped the blanket around him, pinning his arms, and began stabbing wildly, letting his instincts take over.


    Stab. Stab. Stab.


    His cellmate¡¯s body jerked and convulsed, but the fight drained from him. Desperate, the bastard tried to beg through the gag, but Malphas didn¡¯t care.


    He grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and plunged his fingers back into the hollowed sockets, twisting them inside the ruined flesh. The bastard¡¯s muffled screams echoed through the cell.


    Malphas didn¡¯t stop until there was nothing left but a twitching, bleeding husk.


    But Malphas wasn¡¯t done.


    He dipped his sharpened spoon into the pool of blood and began carving letters into the bastard¡¯s skin. He didn¡¯t write words¡ªjust symbols, distorted, terrifying, like they came straight from a nightmare. The guards wouldn¡¯t understand them, but they¡¯d feel the horror they conveyed.


    Malphas worked methodically, the room filled with the sickening sound of flesh tearing and blood dripping. He knew the guard routine well. They wouldn¡¯t come to check for another twenty minutes. Plenty of time.


    By the time the guards finally arrived, the scene was pure horror. Blood everywhere. Pieces of flesh and skin scattered on the floor.


    The guards froze, their faces turning pale.


    "What the fuck is this?" one of them whispered, his voice shaking.they started to beating him out of fear .then The warden arrived shortly after.


    When he saw the carnage,He didn¡¯t drag Malphas to solitary confinement. Instead, he took him straight to his office.


    "Sit" the warden said, his tone cold yet intrigued.


    Malphas sat, still drenched in blood, his eyes cold and distant.


    "I¡¯ve seen plenty of killers in my time," the warden began, leaning forward. "But you, you¡¯re something different."


    Malphas said nothing, but the warden didn¡¯t need a response.


    "I could let them throw you in solitary for what you did," the warden continued, his voice dropping lower. "Or I could use you."


    Malphas¡¯s gaze finally met his.


    "I need someone to take care of the boss. The one running things in here. A fat pig who controls the other kids through fear."


    Malphas didn¡¯t blink.


    "You take him out," the warden said, a twisted grin forming, "and I¡¯ll make sure your sentence gets reduced. Maybe even give you a little more freedom. Do it right, and I¡¯ll give you what you really want."


    Malphas¡¯s lips curled slightly.


    "Pain," the warden whispered. "I¡¯ll let you give them pain. But first prove to me you¡¯re worthy."

 Chapter 3

    Then he agrees, and he is transferred to the cell of the fat pig. The pig didn¡¯t notice the change, and when the guards gave Malphas the drug, they warned him, ¡°Because of his fat, you¡¯ll have  eight to nine minutes only.¡± Malphas waited until the pig was asleep, then used the drug the guards gave him while he was asleep after that he used wire to tie him to the bed. He wrapped the  steel wire around the pig¡¯s neck, arms, and legs¡ªtight, unforgiving, ensuring there was no escape. But he didn¡¯t kill him immediately. He stayed on the pig¡¯s body, waiting patiently for him to wake up.


    When the fat pig¡¯s eyes fluttered open, confusion turned to rage as he realized he was bound. He glared at Malphas with murderous intent, convinced that as soon as he was free, he would make him pay. But when Malphas signaled the guards to cut the power, plunging the cell into darkness, that rage dissolved into something else. Fear. The pig knew what the darkness meant. The guards¡¯ eyes were watching him from beyond the doors,  coldy staring at him and the lights being out wasn¡¯t a mistake¡ªit was planned. His body, weakened by the drug, he couldn¡¯t resist. The wire dug into his flesh, and worst of all, even his tongue was caught in the wire, the end resting firmly in Malphas¡¯s hand.


    The first stab was slow, deliberate, sinking into the pig¡¯s stomach. The knife sliced through layers of fat, avoiding vital organs. The pig tried to scream, but Malphas yanked the wire, slicing into his tongue just enough to make him understand¡ªif he made another sound, his tongue would be torn out. His muffled whimpers filled the cell as Malphas twisted the knife cruelly, making sure the pig felt every moment. Then, with eerie calm, he walked to the toilet, filled a cup with the foul water, and forced it down the pig¡¯s throat. The pig gagged, trying to vomit, but the wire tightened once more. He realized then¡ªdeath would not come swiftly.


    Malphas didn¡¯t rush. He carved away the excess fat first, his blade slicing deep but with calculated precision, making sure the pig bled slowly. The pig¡¯s body convulsed, but Malphas was merciless. Piece by piece, he stripped the flesh away, exposing raw, trembling muscle. The pig¡¯s muffled cries turned to inhuman wails, echoing through the corridors. Every prisoner heard them¡ªand for the first time, even the most hardened criminals felt a chill creep down their spines.


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    The pig¡¯s screams finally burst forth, uncontrollable, inhuman wails that fill the entire juvenile prison. Every prisoner hears it¡ªtheir blood runs cold. Even those who have murdered, who have tortured others before, find themselves frozen in place. The warden, hearing the screams, lets out a low chuckle.


    "He¡¯s finally begun."


    The guards who were laughing before now stand silent. One of them, unable to hold back, vomits at the sight. Another looks away, his face pale, his body trembling. None of them can comprehend the level of brutality they are witnessing. The pig thrashes, but the MC continues, his blade moving with sickening precision. He was not skilled enough to take the face cleanly¡ªso instead, he smashes it. Again and again, using the blunt end of the knife, reducing it to a pulp of shattered bone and torn flesh.


    As the guards opened the cell, their bodies froze. The stench of blood was overwhelming, but it was the sight that stole the air from their lungs. Skin peeled and discarded like unwanted cloth, shards of bone scattered, and the face unrecognizable. The grotesque remains were barely human. But what stood before them was even more terrifying.


    Charon steps out of the cell, his clothes soaked in blood, small bits of flesh clinging to his skin. His eyes, hollow yet gleaming with a sadistic thrill, scanning the terrified faces around him.


    ¡°Take care of it,¡± he mutters coldly, his voice echoing like a death knell. His expression remains unchanged as he walks toward the showers, leaving behind a trail of crimson footprints.


    One of the guards, trembling, barely able to breathe, whispered under his breath:


    ¡°Malphas¡±


    The others flinched at the name.


    ¡°Do you know the tale of Malphas?¡± another guard murmured, voice shaking. ¡°The harbinger of chaos pure destruction, leaving nothing but agony in his wake.¡±


    And from that moment, the name stuck. Malphas. The embodiment of terror. A name that would haunt the corridors of the juvenile prison and beyond.