Dominos: Zero Point Awakening

Chapter 37: The Scars Tattooed on The Heart

I streaked across the continent, a hunter locked onto the predator. Abdu’s trail glittered in my vision—fine crystalline particles, each one a beacon pulsing with his essence. They mapped his erratic flight, a shimmering thread I followed through every twist and turn.

He rampaged across Asia, a whirlwind of death, bodies crumpling in his wake as he darted from one region to the next. But no matter how fast he fled, I chased without losing him. Seconds—that’s all it took for me to close the gap, a relentless shadow he couldn’t shake.

His strength bled away, his once-blinding speed halved by exhaustion and oozing wounds. On the thirteenth clash, he faltered. His boots skidded across the earth, kicking up dust, and he spun to face me—cornered, desperate, the predator baring his fangs.

The landscape around us blurred, a nameless stretch of ground lost in his frantic escape. Location meant nothing to Abdu. His vow was simple, absolute: to snuff out every soul drawing breath on this planet.

“I’ll give it to you,” he rasped, chest heaving as he sucked in air. “You’re one relentless bastard.”

I advanced a single step, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I joined the planetary defense force to stop monsters like you. You slaughter innocent people without hesitation. I can’t stop until you’re finished.”

His eyes flared, wild with rage. “Innocent people?” he roared, venom lacing every syllable. “No one—absolutely no one—in this world is innocent!”

His fists clenched tight, knuckles whitening as if he could crush his own fury. “I was born into a wasteland. Hell wasn’t a story—it was my reality. Daybreak to dusk, all I knew was the scream of gunfire, the blast of grenades, the roar of rocket launchers. Not once—not a single moment—did I taste peace.”

His words hung heavy, raw with pain, begging for understanding. But I saw past the mask. “Countless people endure suffering,” I countered, my tone unyielding. “They don’t turn it into a blade to carve through the world. Your pain doesn’t excuse murder.”

He laughed—a jagged, hollow sound that echoed with bitterness. “You think I chose this on a whim? For years, I believed suffering was life’s unbreakable law, the fate stitched into every soul. I woke each day praying for one more sunrise before death claimed me. I surrendered to it, and still, the world stripped everything away. Do you know what my father said before he died?”

His gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unblinking, daring me to flinch. “He apologized for cursing me with this life. Told his ten-year-old son he hoped death would take me before I had anything to lose.”

For a fleeting moment, sympathy flickered in my chest—a pang for the boy he’d been. But I smothered it. His childhood was a wound, deep and real, yet it didn’t absolve the blood on his hands.

Locked away in my mind’s dark corners, I’d spent centuries dissecting his motives, searching for a thread of reason in his genocide. I found none. Death wasn’t justice or salvation—it was a coward’s flight from a world too broken to mend.

“That was my awakening,” Abdu snarled, his voice rising like a storm. “I swore I’d claw my way out of that abyss. Yes! I killed, betrayed, clawed through every obstacle until I escaped that hell. I dreamed of a life worth living. Heck...I even though about marriage, starting a family. When I broke free, I smiled for the first time. But then I saw it—something that shouldn’t exist, something that shattered everything.”

His words trailed off, his stare drifting to a horizon only he could see, haunted by a specter I couldn’t yet grasp.

“They were too happy!” His voice cracked with fury. He paced about. “Everywhere I looked, they gorged themselves until their bellies swelled, danced from dusk till dawn, blind to the hell scorching the other side of the planet. Kicking soccer balls, glued to video games, drowning in movies from sunrise to sunset—while across the earth, others woke to gunfire and bled out in the dirt.”

His teeth ground together, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “That’s when it hit me—the truth, glaring at me all along. I’d buried it, refused it, until I couldn’t anymore. My home? Was but a twisted coliseum. A playground for the mighty to flex their strength, with the world lounging in the stands, gawking.”

I drew a slow breath, locking eyes with him. “You survived a war-torn nightmare, Abdu. I feel that pain with you. But it doesn’t justify the bodies you’ve left behind. Those stolen moments—laughter with loved ones, a flicker of joy—that’s the light that pierces the dark, the reason we endure.”

His voice dropped, echoing my words like a ghost. “A few moments of laughter...”

“You’re slaughtering children because they dared to smile while you suffered? You’re blind. It’s not humanity—it’s the rot inside it. The weeds strangling the roots.”

“Someone like you can’t grasp this!” he snapped, his words slicing through the air. “Your whole life’s a delusion! Right, wrong—just shadows on a wall. Maybe it never even mattered.”

I stepped closer, my voice steady but firm. “Open your eyes, Abdu. There’s still time to stop. Don’t make me take another life.”

His laugh was a jagged shard of bitterness. “Only one thing stops me. I told you—history bows to the last one standing. Your truth against mine. Death’s the only judge left.”

I tightened my grip on my sword, the weight of his words sinking into my chest. “Then let’s finish it.”

Words wouldn’t reach him—I saw that now. He was right about one thing: strength would settle this. Every fiber of me burned to stop him, to protect the innocent from a lost friend who’d cut down even children to prove his warped point.

He pivoted to face me, his eyes glinting with grim resolve. “Couldn’t agree more. Time to drop the masks.” His stance shifted, coiled like a beast ready to strike.

My pulse thundered, but my will was iron. I braced myself, sword humming with purpose. Then Abdu moved—his right torn arm, gashed and bleeding, shimmered as he willed crystalline shards to stitch the wound shut, a grotesque lattice of gleaming facets. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he forged an extension—a jagged crystal limb.

He then placed his hands together, as he gathered energy into a churning vortex of crystalline dust. The air buzzed, electric, as he crushed the particles tighter—a glowing orb of compressed power flaring like a captive star. With a guttural roar, he unleashed it, the sphere shattering into a tempest of fine fragments that streaked across the battlefield, glinting like deadly constellations.

He’d thrown down the gauntlet—and the fight was on