My Demon System.

h coug

stave off the chill that seeped from the cracked windowpanes and the damp, rotting floorboards. The single bare bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling cast long, skeletal shado

g on the precipice of death, abandoned to the mercy of a world that had shown him only cruelty. The silence, broken only by his labored breaths and the occasional creak of the dilapidated building, was a suffocating b

a drop. The gnawing hunger pushed him past the limits of his already weakened body. Desperation clawed at him, a primal urge to survive over

ectral companion in the labyrinthine maze of trash cans and discarded refuse. He spotted a half-eaten loaf of bread in a dumpster,

arded bread. He froze, his hand still hovering over the half-eaten loaf, the bitter taste of impending starvation alr

harper than any thought, propelled him forward. He stumbled, the remn

ach desperate stride. The city roared around him, a chaotic symphony of sirens, car horns, and d

, cut through the night air, the words echoing like a thunderclap in his ears. He felt heavy footsteps poundin

per against the approaching terror. He rounded a cor

ss now laced with cruel amusement. He was cornered, trapped in a narrow passage bet

, their eyes gleaming with hunger and cruelty. One of them grabb

ugh him, but Alastor didn't cry out. He had learned long ago that pain was a constant companion, a dull ache

tlights. The darkness offered a perverse kind of anonymity, a temporary veil against the humiliation

his stomach, the impact sending jolts of agonizing pain through his body. He tasted blood again, a metallic tang that mingled with the dus

, their faces contorted with an almost ritualistic savagery. He tried to protect himself, to cur

there, his body bruised and battered, his spirit fractured, the cold seeping into his bones. The pain was almost a relief, a numb, dull ache that dulled the sharper sting of despair. He was alone, utterly alone, with nothing but the bitter taste of blood and the crushing weight o