CHAPTER 19
"THE HUNGER OF THE MARK"**
The city lights flickered like dying candles as Kael Riven stumbled through the smoldering ruins of the east district. Smoke curled into the sky in long, ghostly fingers. Buildings sagged inward, their metal beams twisted from heat. Sirens wailed in the distance—but none dared approach the epicenter of the destruction.
Kael's wings—massive red angelic wings threaded with blackened veins—dragged behind him, dripping embers that sizzled against the broken asphalt.
His heartbeat hammered in his skull, faster, louder, hungrier.
The Mark was awake.
He gripped his head, groaning as the devil sigil on his chest pulsed like a newborn star.
Burn.
Burn.
BURN.
Kael stumbled again, one knee hitting the ground. His lungs felt tight, as if someone had replaced his ribs with molten iron. The voices echoed inside him—not the tortured whispers of demons, but the raw instinct birthed by the Mark itself.
The Punisher hungers.
The wicked call for judgment.
Let the fire feast.
"Stop…" Kael hissed. "Not now… not again."
But the hunger only deepened.
And the fire answered it.
Flames crawled down his arms like serpents, wrapping his wrists, licking across his skin. The heat should've burned him—but instead it strengthened him, sharpened him, made the world look brighter and clearer.
A sound—like a desperate gasp—snapped him from the trance.
A man was crawling through the rubble. No, not a man… a criminal Kael recognized instantly.
Roth Vender. One of the gang leaders responsible for terrorizing the district. The same man who had ordered the warehouse bombing two days ago. The same man Kael once spared for the sake of his mother's safety.
But she was gone now.
And mercy had died with her.
Kael's eyes illuminated instantly in a deep, hellish red.
Roth attempted to flee, dragging his broken leg behind him, trembling as he looked over his shoulder.
"Y-You… Riven… Kael Riven— no—no, please—!"
Kael stepped forward.
The ground beneath him cracked.
The flames around him roared.
And above Roth's head, Kael saw it—the unmistakable sign.
A bright crimson cross blazing like a torch.
A wicked soul.
Kael's voice was low, hollow, inhuman.
"Your sins are overflowing."
"Wait! WAIT!" Roth screamed. "I can—I can confess! I can give you names! I can—"
Kael extended his hand. Flames formed along his palm, gathering into a swirling sphere of molten intensity.
"The Punisher doesn't negotiate."
He fired.
The blast hit Roth with the force of a collapsing sun, incinerating him instantly. Fire surged outward, rolling in a wave that vaporized the rubble around them.
Silence followed.
Then the hunger spoke again:
More.
There are more wicked hearts beating.
Feed.
Kael staggered back, gripping his chest.
"No… not yet," he growled through clenched teeth. "I need control… I need—"
But the Mark burned brighter.
His wings flared open on their own.
And his vision flickered between two worlds—
the destroyed city around him… and a shadowy, blood-soaked realm beneath reality.
The Devil's Dominion.
Where the true Punisher watched him.
A towering silhouette with horns like jagged thrones. Black wings wrapped around its body. Eyes like two black holes devouring starlight.
"You resist still…"
The demon king's voice echoed, smooth and ancient.
"Even after tasting the fire."
Kael clenched his jaw.
"I won't become your puppet."
Laughter echoed, deep and thunderous.
"You already are."
The shadow lifted its hand, and Kael felt his heart tighten painfully.
Fire flooded his veins.
The hunger exploded inside him like a ruptured dam.
He dropped to one knee, gasping.
His vision tinted red.
And suddenly—he wasn't alone.
Footsteps echoed from behind.
"Kael?"
A voice he knew.
A voice his human heart still recognized.
He turned.
Lyra Solen—his childhood friend. The only one he trusted. The only one who knew some of his truth. She approached cautiously, stepping over debris, sweat running down her pale face.
"Kael… you look—"
She paused, trembling.
"—different."
He tried to hide his wings, but they unfurled involuntarily.
Her eyes widened with horror.
"Kael… what happened to you?"
He avoided her gaze.
"You shouldn't be here."
"No. You shouldn't be alone," she said, stepping closer. "What happened to this district? What happened to you?"
Kael's breath shook.
He felt the Mark twisting, shifting, whispering.
She is pure.
White cross.
Not a threat.
But the hunger didn't care.
It wanted to burn anything.
He took a step back.
"Lyra… stay away."
She froze.
His wings flared again, releasing sparks.
"Kael… please… I'm scared."
He felt something tighten in his chest.
A memory.
His mother's face.
Her final smile.
Her blood.
Her lifeless body in his arms.
He let out a trembling breath, fighting the rage boiling beneath his skin.
"I can't hurt you," he whispered harshly. "But something inside me wants to."
Lyra's eyes softened.
"Then I'll help you control it."
Kael shook his head violently.
"No. You can't. This thing—this curse—this power—it's devouring me."
He staggered.
She rushed forward instinctively.
Kael dodged back so fast the shockwave shattered nearby windows.
He almost screamed.
"Lyra, DON'T TOUCH ME!"
The flames around him surged like a living beast.
Lyra covered her face from the heat, but stepped forward again.
"You're Kael Riven. The boy who protected me in school. The boy who spent hours helping his mother. The boy who—"
"THAT BOY IS DEAD!"
His voice echoed across the ruins like thunder.
Silence fell.
Kael trembled violently, wings twitching, the Mark scorching his skin.
Lyra's tears sparkled under the moonlight, but her voice remained steady.
"He doesn't have to be."
Kael looked at her, pain ripping through him from within.
But before he could speak—
—sharp, metal footsteps echoed behind Lyra.
Kael's eyes widened instantly.
A group of armored figures emerged from the smoke—
their helmets stamped with the insignia of The Dominion Hunters, an anti-demonic task force.
Their rifles crackled with blue exorcist energy.
And Kael saw it above their heads.
Orange crosses.
Possessed.
Corrupted.
Killers hiding behind justice.
His wings snapped open.
Lyra stepped back, terrified.
One of the Hunters pointed his weapon.
"Target sighted. The Punisher-class demon hybrid. OPEN FIRE—"
Kael moved before he even realized it.
Fire erupted from his wings.
His eyes ignited.
The Mark pulsed like a volcanic heart.
"DON'T."
His voice was layered with demonic harmony.
"SHE'S NOT YOUR TARGET."
The Hunters fired anyway.
Kael caught the bullets with his bare hand—
molten energy dripping between his fingers—
and crushed them effortlessly.
Lyra gasped.
The Punisher inside him whispered:
Burn them.
Burn them all.
Kael exhaled—
—and the flames responded.