8 likes
1 comment
While revenge might provide a temporary sense of satisfaction, it often leads to feelings of bitterness and emptiness. You may be unable to heal emotionally if you are focused on negative emotions. You may end up compounding your grief instead of alleviating it by seeking revenge.
One who understands this idea well is Marco Prince, a baby left at the hitman guild Dragon Tail and taken in to be raised. Despite being trained in a world of vengeance and violence, Marco learned that true healing comes from forgiveness and moving forward. His story exemplifies the transformative power of letting go of grudges. He would try to give others chances even if they wanted to hurt him; he always fought to take his foes down but never ended them. This made him the guild's personal punching bag, leading to frequent bullying. However, there was no such bullying from a girl his age called Ally Newfoster, the child of the guild leader, Guy.
Ally's kindness and compassion stood in stark contrast to the ruthless mentality of the other guild members. While others saw Marco as an easy target, Ally treated him with respect and empathy, often stepping in to defend him from bullies. Her behavior highlighted the possibility of a different path based on understanding rather than aggression. Ally's example inspired Marco to try to find his own way. He developed a newfound self-confidence and would try even harder to keep his ideals alive.
To leave the guild together, the two take on odd jobs together. While making enough money to keep their ideas alive, they took on odd jobs. From partners to lovers, they're truly ready for the future. Guy gave the two his blessing. He did not like Marco but saw that he made his daughter happy. He knew Marco was good for her and trusted her judgment. He wished her all the best and hoped the relationship would succeed. Even with the bittersweet ache in his heart as he let go of his little girl. He realized that part of loving her meant trusting her to find her own path.
Watching her embark on this new journey, he hoped Marco would cherish and protect her as much as he always had. But they wouldn't make it far as four warriors covered in knight armor came out to attack the two teens. They tried to fight back but were quickly overpowered, slashed up left and right. Marco received a large scar on his eye and lost his right foot and left arm, leaving him on death's door, while Ally's life and body were taken away entirely. Leaving nothing left of her.
Despite being put on bed rest for 17 days, Marco barely fell asleep as he walked back to the guild. He was plagued by nightmares, filled with haunting whispers from the woods. The rustle of leaves outside his window sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of the dark secrets he could not escape. In the Whispering Woods, where ancient trees whispered dark secrets to each other, Marco's descent into madness began. Once a member of the Dragon Tail Organization, the 15-year-old assassin's humanity was extinguished when his girlfriend, Ally, fell victim to the rival guild, Sword's End.
Marco would get out of bed and ask Guy to train him. Marco was determined to avenge Ally's death and gain the power to do so. Guy reluctantly agreed to train him, and Marco became an assassin. Grief and rage turned Marco into "The Butcher of Whispering Woods." He was sucked into power and revenge. His anger was fueled by dark magic and twisted training. As Marco's skills improved, his sadistic tendencies grew. His obsession became the fear of feeling weak and helpless as he embraced the terror he inspired in others. Unexplained horrors ensued: disembodied screams filled the air, trees moved independently, and the innocent wandered off.
Trees conspired against those who dared enter the woods, helping Marco's malignant reign. The brutalized corpses were testament to his unsurpassed brutality as his legend grew. Some villagers whispered about Marco's supernatural abilities, how he manipulated the shadows to hide, and how he drank blood with his blade. From the darkness of Whispering Woods, he was born the Shadow Reaper. It was one fateful evening when Marco's domain came into view. Investigators had different motives, so there were a lot of them.
Arin, the enigmatic scholar looking to find out what fuels Marco's power, and Jax, the rugged adventurer driven by morbid curiosity, round out the cast. As they went deeper into the woods, they realized it wasn't the darkness that was scary, but the monster it had created. It seemed like Marco's prey, the "Four Hunters of Good," were connected to something mysterious.
Curious, the group followed Marco's trial. It took them through serene Whispering Woods, lively streets of England, arid deserts of New Mexico, vibrant urban landscapes of Japan, and the verdant expanses of New Zealand. They encountered members of the Four Hunters of Good at every turn, each telling a heartbreaking story of Marco's losses. They ended up in Queenstown, where Emily, the leader of the Four Hunters, sought refuge. An unrelenting thirst for revenge had driven Marco to follow her clandestinely for months. Marco appeared from the shadows, poised with his blade, as the group confronted Emily.
The two's clash was endless, lasting from 2 PM until 10 PM that night. The once powerless young man overcame his foe, screaming like a beast. Emily, however, didn't give up and saw her only way of winning was to cut off his other arm again, but being prepared, he had replaced his wooden arm with an iron one, which broke her sword, leaving her finally without a weapon.Emily's eyes widened in shock as the fragments of her shattered sword fell to the ground. Desperation etched across her face, she scrambled backward, searching for any means of escape or defense. Her confidence shattered along with her weapon, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.
Marco smiled as he advanced toward her, his metal foot connecting with brutal precision. Kicks struck her head, chest, legs, arms, and even her toes with a sickening thud. A final, decisive blow was dealt with a cold, unrelenting gaze. With her last breaths, she revealed the secrets of her guild. With the light fading from her eyes, her lips twitched with a faint smile, knowing her revelations would cause chaos. It was at that moment that she found a twisted sense of redemption and hope.
The shocking twist was Emily revealing Sword's End guild wasn't better than Dragon Tail Organization. They waited for villains to manifest, then used them as pawns in their game of good vs. evil. Ally and Marco were sacrificed for a good story. Emily's grand narrative tragically doomed the Four Hunters of Good to martyrdom. Marco's world fell apart when he realized the vendetta was a sham. Marco promised to take up the title of Endbringer if hunted down. Jax, Arin, and Emilia described a deceitful web spanning continents. Their revenge dance beckoned them to join Marco's darkness.
Seeing everyone as his foe Seeing everyone as his foe, Marco's trust shattered completely. His guildmates, once the closest thing he had to family, were mere pawns in a grand scheme. The knights, who pretended to be paragons of virtue, only sought to boost their own legends through deceit. Marco decided to embrace the title of Endbringer as a means to reclaim his agency and to exact vengeance on those who manipulated him. The title symbolized his resolve to dismantle corrupt systems that used people like him as tools. He aimed to expose hypocrisy and bring the true villains to justice with every step he took. The Endbringer title embodied Marco's fight for justice and reclaiming his agency.
You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.
Updated Version!!
Marco’s Red Heart
Genre: Horror, Dark Fantasy, & Revenge
By. Stephvon D. Dames
(Introduction)
The rain in the Rangataua Forest never eased. It fell in heavy sheets that soaked through cloth and skin alike, turning the ground into a sucking mire that clung tightly to my boots and dragged me at every single step. Each droplet striking the canopy carried the same cold insistence: turn back. Mist drifted low between the rimu and matai trunks, shadows stretching like grasping hands eager to drag us deeper into the green.
However, I wasn’t alone. I held onto my girlfriend’s hand tight enough that my knuckles ached. In that choked emerald darkness, her quiet warmth was the only thing keeping me tethered to anything human.
“Marco... don’t look back,” she whispered, her voice barely rising above the constant drip of ferns. I wanted to promise that we’d reach beyond the walls, that the walls would fade behind us like a nightmare. The words lodged in my throat instead. Instead, I glanced back.
Amid hanging fronds and moss-covered bark, the Dragon Tail compound rose imposingly, with massive quarry slabs swallowing the low-hanging clouds.
These structures were designed to keep danger at bay, yet they ended up ensnaring a deep sense of despair. Six years I had rotted there, since I was twelve. It had never been home.
(My origins)
A long time ago, I was no different from any kid: playing ball with friends, rushing to school, or helping with errands on the farm. Life was pleasant for me. But on a gray autumn afternoon in 2021, my grandparents handed me over.
A slender black wagon with metal accents pulled up to our rundown farmhouse outside Taumarunui. “Promising some kind of scholarship,” they told me. Their voices were strained with relief. The guild representative placed a heavy envelope of gold coins on the table. It clinked when my grandfather took it.
The next day, he dropped me off at the guild’s front door.
Then they pushed me toward them without meeting my eyes.
The man attempted to pull me away, but I could get away with a sharp blow to his foot as I attempted to follow my grandparents.
I wrenched free and sprinted after their old farm ute as it rattled down the gravel track, stones cutting my bare feet. “Grandma! Grandpa—wait!”
My grandmother stared straight ahead. “Stay away, Marco.”
My grandfather glanced back once, his face half-hidden in the shadow. “You’ve been too heavy, boy. Stay away now.”
Those words dropped me to my knees in the mud. As the only family I knew drove away, the guild member hauled me back for a second time. It hurt every step I took. The weight of abandonment crushed my bones, and I could no longer resist the overwhelming pain.
My only remaining hope lay in the forest, where silent tears blended with rain streaming down my face.
Once the ute disappeared, everything fell into place, and I realized why I had been sold. My parents’ debts to Dragon Tail and its collectors were a heavy burden that demanded a steep price. In their desperation, they offered me—their own son—as a way to pay off what money could not cover. Life on the struggling farm had already been tough; I was the troubled one, always breaking things and asking too many questions. Finally, my grandparents found a way to rid themselves of what they considered a burden.
(Inside the guild walls)
Once I was taken, my normal life was ruined. The guild preached humanitarian rescue for "strangers." They fashioned weapons from broken children. Quick reflexes and a high pain threshold secured your spot. Survival came at a cost, and death was merely another entry on the ledger.
I once overheard two veterans in the mess hall, their voices flat over lukewarm coffee.
“Two casualties in the last operation.”
“Acceptable losses.”
There was no grief, just numbers. If you fell, another would take your place. The machine kept grinding on without so much as a hitch. Yet somehow, in that cold machinery, Ally managed to exist.
The night before our escape, we lounged on the roof beneath a canopy of stars, the tiles still warm from the day’s sun. Gusts of wind scraped against the stone walls below, and a distant generator whined like a silent judge waiting to weigh souls beyond the Rangataua Forest.
“Hey, Marco?” Ally asked softly, her shoulder brushing against mine. “Do you remember what the outside felt like?”
I glanced up at the cloudy sky. “Not really.”
“Slaying and jabbing… it dulls the memory,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
She called my pun “terrible” and moved on, lifting her hand to trace invisible constellations. “A place where people wake up without klaxons, where no one assigns you an enemy each week, where you’re not just playing a role someone else scripted.”
There had always been propaganda clips on the guild screens—glowing phones in Hamilton traffic and vibrant beaches on Mount Maunganui. Ally chuckled softly at my expression. “Maybe they just live.”
“Sit in cafés. Watch the sunrise without fearing it’s their last.”
An instructor once shared a profound thought that has lingered in my mind: “Heroes and villains don’t choose their roles; they embrace them fully… even when no one is watching from above.” This idea resonates deeply, reminding us that our actions define us, regardless of whether there's an audience to witness them.
Ally turned to me, her dark hair spilling across the tiles. Her eyes reflected a fragile faith that I envied. “If we ever make it out, what would you do first?”
I pondered longer than I should have. “Nothing,” I finally confessed. “Wake up. Breathe. Just exist. No bells. And work a regular job.”
Her smile was small and sacred. “That sounds like grace.” She whispered the words like a prayer. “For freedom, Christ has set us free; stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.” Her voice wavered. “And you will know the truth, and the truth will…”
I finished the line for her, speaking low. “…set you free.”
Ally looked at me, her eyes shimmering. “I guess that’s what it means to be there for one another,” she murmured, “to pick up the pieces when the words fall away.”
“I’ll pick up those pieces for life,” I affirmed, and for once, I meant it completely.
In the quiet moments that followed—stolen conversations in the medical room after sparring, her radiant smile cutting through my darkness—I fell for her. She saw the fractured boy beneath the burgeoning monster and chose to stay. Her faith and warmth became my refuge in a place built to strip away both. _________________________________________________________________________________________
(In the early days)
My initial mission was. Hunting down a low-level target.
My only indication was that the target was a Light Alliance operative in an abandoned warehouse near Napier. My hands shook as I drove home with the blade. The man gasped, his eyes wide in shock and pain as blood splattered across my fingers.
I experienced an intense physical reaction in the rain, reflecting on the moment when my victim’s life was abruptly extinguished with a final, trembling breath. A distinct metallic taste filled my mouth, reminding me of the situation’s gravity.
Killing has carved away a piece of my soul, leaving a hollow ache that never heals.
Then it happened again with a “thk!” and a “psshhht” that caused each victim to fall to my feet. It was as if I were hunting, stabbing, and clawing my way through my targets.
As each death pulled me down, my expression became vacant. I cocked my neck to the right, accepting the grim familiarity I had gained.
This was the change that changed me. Calloused and unrecognizable, but resigned to the path I chose.
A member called Lizard became my tutor.
His training sessions were grueling. I underwent poison injections and electric treatments to strengthen my body. Afterward, he taught me how to absorb blows. His methods were painful but undeniably effective. “You either break or become unbreakable,” he said, landing a padded fist against my ribs. Nurse Marvy observed with keen interest. Even when I bore deep scars, Lizard’s calm demeanor was reassuring, instilling in me the belief that I could prevail.
Ally was different. She moved through several missions like a venomous snake. Secondly, her targets were mice, trying to avoid being swallowed.
As proof of success, she returned with severed hands, fingers still curled as if holding onto life. Next came the legs, followed by heads with eyes fixed in fear.
Chris, her mother and former Light Alliance member, warned her after every kill: “Don’t become foolish, Ally. The light you chase will demand payment one day.” Ally laughed, confident in her mother’s protection. “We’re immovable, Mother. No light scum can break us.”
That self-confidence evaporated the night they carried Chris back, her body nearly sliced in half by White Roses’ traps and blades.
The guild gathered under harsh lights. Murmurs rose: “Unfortunate loss.” “Operational risk.” A veteran shrugged. “Happens.”
Guy stared at the draped remains. His face flickered once, then settled into familiar indifference. “Dispose of it.”
“Father, no,” Ally screamed, the only one who did.
“She fought. She fell. That’s our way, Ally,” he replied flatly.
That night, Ally’s hands trembled as she wrapped my cracked ribs. Nurse Marvy worked nearby with detached precision. “Fascinating damage,” she murmured. Lizard stood silently in the corner like a living tank, offering only a slow nod of indignant solidarity.
“Don’t push too hard, Marco,” Ally whispered, his voice cracked. “I can’t lose you, too.”
As her trembling hands worked on my ribs, I felt a mixture of relief and fear. Ally, who once seemed invincible and monstrous, now showed a vulnerability that was both unsettling and comforting. It was the first time I saw her as more than just a ruthless warrior; she was human, capable of loss and fear, and realization left me more wary of her than ever before.
(The night we ran)
As soon as the time was right, we ran.
We both wondered if our existence without harm was even possible.
Yet, the forest whispered a different truth: shadows loomed too long. The fog followed us like watching eyes, weighing the depths of our very souls.
The bush murmured every buried regret.
We barely cleared the perimeter when the White Roses appeared over us: four silhouettes performing their roles with theatrical elegance. Arlo towered with his taiaha-style lance. Liam and Luna moved in an eerie sync. Emily stood in the center, her silver armor gleaming.
Emily smiled faintly. “Dragon runaways. Did you truly think you could slip away?”
"It's the daughter! Oh, how nice!" she said with a lick of her lips.
"I guess we can take down Dragon Tail followers... and one of them is connected by blood to the leader."
Ally surged forward. “Marco—run! She took my mother!”
“No!" I called.
"We should stand together,” I growled.
The assault was swift. Liam’s psychic force slammed into me. Luna’s yank hurled me into a tawny trunk. My arm snapped; my ankle crumpled. Pain exploded through every nerve.
Ally fought with desperate grace, but Luna’s dagger sank deep beneath her ribs. She staggered, blood soaking in her shirt. Her gasp tore through me. Her eyes met mine—full of pain, faith, and the quiet realization that grace demanded its price.
I crawled through the mud. Arlo stepped over me, lance rising—then froze.
A faint glow enveloped Ally. Ethereal wings unfurled, one radiant white, pulsing with holy light; the other smoky black, twisting like fallen judgment. Rain hissed at them. She reached out for me.
I stretched out, my fingers touching only the air.
My wings seemed unfinished—one was pale and filled with doubt, while the other was stained. I felt unworthy.
Ally met my eyes with that small, faithful smile. She released her darkness to grasp the light. The glow faded.
The one who anchored me was lost.
A search team drags me back. In the infirmary, Nurse Marvy worked with a clinical detachment. “Fascinating fractures."
A guy standing beside his daughter’s body. “The cost of the work.”
I screamed until my stitches tore. “This was murder!”
Darkness floods me.
Even when I was knocked out by gas. Ally didn't leave my mind.
But I can't find another to replace her.
Demanded training from Guy.
“Revenge brings no peace,” he said. “But chase it if it gives you a purpose."
Training with Guy consumed me. He taught me to endure blows that break others. The forest responded to my rage—roots tripping out, phantoms, branches hiding behind me. The red glow in my chest pulsed hotter.
Ironically, the only thing I gained from her memory was Lizard, who said, "End them, then come back." It was said to avoid bravado taking over.
I didn’t need to act out of pride; instead, I was motivated by the desire to witness the same fate that befell those who ultimately got eliminated.
An eye for an eye.
(Return to the outside world)
Four months later, in July, I turned seventeen. I kept the symbolic chains on my wrists. Kauri Hollow lay ahead with worn wooden walkways, children laughing near cafes that smelled of fresh bread, and villagers arguing prices while scrolling feeds. Ordinary life continued while the global game of guilds and alliances played on.
I could have stayed.
The narrator observes how villagers celebrate the White Roses as heroes, prompting a deep internal conflict. This applause feels reminiscent of the cheering that followed Chris’s death, leading the narrator to question whether the pursuit of freedom has resulted in a society that views death as mere entertainment. The dream of Ally remains out of reach amid this troubling reality.
I began with Liam and Luna. Smoke swallowed the clearing. Two strikes. Bodies in the ferns. Villagers cheered on from the ridge. Their applause weighed heavily on me.
Arlo met me among towering kauri. “We’re all pieces performing before higher eyes.” In response, he clapped politely. The sounds made my stomach turn.
Emily waited for the last. She didn’t draw her weapon. “The audience always needs a villain,” she said. “And now… You wear the role perfectly.”
My crimson heart hammered brighter.
I raised the blade. “Forgive me, Ally. The story still demands its villain.”
Emily fell. The crowd cheered.
The forest welcomed me home. I almost looked back.
But Ally’s voice came: " Don't look back.
Called me,
And so
I didn’t.
My wings became black. My heartbeat with a fierce, unyielding crimson.
I turned into the monster they craved.
The villain every story needs.
Audiences already wait for the next chapter… refreshing feeds, buying tickets.
I walked through the village, the cheers echoing around me, yet I felt a growing emptiness within. I couldn't shake the thought that my path led me away from Ally, away from any hope of redemption.
As the villagers celebrated my name, I noticed a solitary figure in the shadows, tears glistening on their cheeks. In that moment, I realized it was my own reflection, mourning the life I once knew and the path I had chosen.
Reply