Jack Storm did not know the world had decided to cut him open.
He only knew something felt wrong.
Not danger — not the sharp edge of demon intent or Hell's hunger — but something quieter. Something colder. The way a room felt when someone had just decided to betray you.
He felt it while hovering above the Atlantic, wings folded behind him, red eyes staring into the black water far below.
The Nether Core pulsed uneasily.
"…They're planning something," Jack murmured.
He didn't know how he knew.
He just did.
THE HUNT FOR BLOOD
Crowe stood inside a sterile white chamber deep beneath a mountain.
A single man lay inside a glass tube.
The volunteer.
Enhanced.
Stronger than any human had ever been.
Still insignificant.
"We can't hurt him," a scientist said. "Not conventionally. But if we can get close enough… even a drop—"
Crowe nodded slowly.
"We only need one."
The team was assembled.
Specialists.
Demon-grade containment tech.
Ritual dampeners.
And one man prepared to do something no one else could.
Touch Jack Storm.
THE AMBUSH
Jack was in London's ruins when it happened.
Standing where Westminster once was.
Feeling the weight of what he had broken.
The strike came from nowhere.
A human figure teleported into existence beside him — faster than any soldier, moving with unnatural speed. A blade forged from compressed demonic crystal stabbed toward Jack's neck.
Jack turned.
The blade barely cut his skin.
Blood beaded.
The human recoiled instantly.
The team activated everything at once.
Resonance cages.
Gravity traps.
Reality anchors.
Jack felt himself slow for the first time in weeks.
"What…?" he muttered.
The human lunged again, a device in his hand.
Jack struck him — not hard.
The man flew back, bones shattered.
But the device had done its job.
A single red droplet floated in the air.
Jack's blood.
Crowe's voice echoed through speakers.
"I'm sorry."
Jack's eyes burned.
"You tried to cut me."
Crowe swallowed.
"We had to."
Jack's force exploded outward, obliterating the containment tech. The strike team was thrown across the ruins like leaves in a storm.
Jack hovered there, staring at the blood floating in the air.
"…So that's what I am to you."
A resource.
He vanished.
HELL — THE DEVIL LISTENS
Far below all worlds, the Infernal Broker knelt.
Not to a body.
To a presence.
"His power has increased significantly," the Broker said. "He is now A-rank. His summoning ability has stabilized. His growth rate exceeds projections."
The darkness stirred.
A voice spoke.
"Yes," the Devil replied. "But still not enough."
The Broker hesitated.
"He is becoming… aware."
A faint chuckle echoed through Hell.
"Let him," the Devil said. "All is proceeding according to the plan."
The Broker bowed.
JACK IN THE VOID
Jack floated above Earth.
The planet looked small now.
Fragile.
He watched clouds drift.
Oceans turn.
Lights flicker in cities that had tried to bleed him.
"…Why should I protect you?" he whispered.
They feared him.
They hunted him.
They tried to turn him into a tool.
The Nether Core pulsed, darker than ever.
Jack spread his wings.
"One last look."
He turned away from Earth.
And flew into the stars.
The Moon was silent.
Jack Storm sat on the edge of a crater, boots resting against ancient dust, wings folded tightly behind him. Earth hung in the black sky like a fragile blue jewel, swirling with clouds and light.
He watched it quietly.
He did not hate it.
That was the problem.
"I should let you burn," he whispered.
But he couldn't.
The Nether Core pulsed faintly in his chest — not hunger now, but something dangerously close to longing.
THE BEAST
It appeared without warning.
An A-rank rift tore open above a coastal city, reality screaming as something massive forced its way through. The creature that emerged was a nightmare of fused muscle and chitin, standing taller than skyscrapers, eyes glowing with infernal intelligence.
The military threw everything at it.
Jets.
Missiles.
Railguns.
Orbital strikes.
Nothing slowed it.
It walked through the city, crushing buildings beneath its claws, swallowing vehicles whole. Entire districts vanished under its footsteps.
People died in the thousands.
Crowe watched the feed, fists clenched.
"We can't stop it," someone whispered.
Crowe closed his eyes.
"…Authorize."
THE NUCLEAR SUN
The missile hit dead center.
A second sun bloomed over the city.
The A-rank beast was engulfed in nuclear fire.
The blast erased everything within miles.
When the light faded…
The beast lay dead.
Barely.
Its body charred, cracked, but still radiating demonic energy.
The city was gone.
THE SIN
Scientists moved in.
Radiation suits.
Containment fields.
They cut into the corpse.
Harvested flesh.
Collected blood.
Crowe watched as they injected the glowing black-red liquid into the waiting soldier.
The man screamed.
Then he changed.
Bones thickened.
Eyes burned.
Muscles swelled with impossible power.
The monitors went wild.
"…A-rank," a scientist whispered.
The soldier stood.
And knelt.
"Awaiting orders," he said.
Crowe felt sick.
"We've built our own demon."
THE MOON
Jack felt it.
A sudden pressure.
A ripple of wrongness across Earth.
"…What did you do?" he whispered.
He stood slowly.
Red eyes burning.
The Nether Core howled.
Jack turned toward the planet.
A battle was coming.
And this time…
It would decide who was allowed to protect humanity.
The first thing the soldier felt was silence.
Not the absence of sound — but the absence of weakness.
His heart beat like a war drum inside his chest. His bones felt heavier, denser, forged from something beyond calcium. His blood burned with a foreign heat that was not pain but power.
He stood inside a containment hangar the size of a football stadium, surrounded by reinforced blast walls, sigil-lined plating, and dozens of armed observers behind thick glass.
He did not breathe fast.
He did not shake.
He felt… right.
"Subject zero-seven," a scientist spoke through the intercom. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes," the soldier replied.
His voice carried something else now — a deep resonance layered beneath it, like thunder trapped inside flesh.
"How do you feel?"
The soldier paused.
"Strong."
A murmur rippled through the control room.
Crowe stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight.
"Proceed," he said.
THE TEST BEGINS
The hangar doors on the far side opened.
Steel slid away.
Energy fields disengaged.
And Hell was let loose.
First came the E-ranks.
Dozens of small, clawed creatures crawled into the arena, shrieking and snapping. These were the lowest of Hell's spawn — dangerous to humans but disposable in the greater hierarchy.
The soldier did not flinch.
"Engage," Crowe ordered.
The soldier moved.
In one step he crossed thirty meters.
His fist hit the first demon.
It didn't explode.
It vanished.
Reduced to red-black vapor.
The others charged.
The soldier's body blurred.
Every strike was precise.
Every impact carried crushing authority.
Within seconds, not a single E-rank remained.
The floor was clean.
The air was still.
"…Next tier," Crowe said.
D-RANKS
A second gate opened.
D-rank demons emerged — larger, armored, far more aggressive.
One roared and lunged.
The soldier caught it by the throat.
Squeezed.
Its neck collapsed like paper.
Another fired infernal energy.
The soldier stepped through it.
Unharmed.
He tore the demon in half.
The D-ranks didn't last a minute.
Scientists stared in stunned silence.
"This… this is A-rank strength," one whispered.
Crowe didn't answer.
He was watching the soldier's eyes.
They were glowing faintly red.
C-RANKS
The third gate opened.
These demons were intelligent.
They hesitated when they saw him.
The soldier tilted his head.
"…Threats detected."
They attacked together.
It didn't matter.
He crushed one with a single punch. Ripped another apart. A third tried to flee — he leapt into the air and brought it down with a shockwave that cracked the arena floor.
Within moments, nothing remained.
Crowe exhaled slowly.
"Unbelievable."
B-RANKS
The final test.
Two B-rank demons stepped into the arena — creatures that could wipe out city blocks.
The soldier rolled his shoulders.
"Proceeding."
They charged.
The first B-rank swung a massive blade of hellfire.
The soldier caught it.
The blade shattered.
He punched the demon in the chest.
Its core imploded.
The second tried to attack from behind.
The soldier turned and struck.
It fell.
Silence.
The arena was empty.
No demons remained.
Crowe finally spoke.
"…We've done it."
A scientist whispered, "He's a god."
Crowe shook his head.
"No," he said quietly. "He's a leash."
STORMCATCHER
They named him that night.
Stormcatcher.
The man who would stop Jack Storm.
The one built to stand between Earth and its own protector.
The soldier accepted the name without question.
"It is appropriate," he said.
He was given orders.
Protect humanity.
Obey command.
Neutralize Jack Storm.
The words did not frighten him.
They felt… inevitable.
JACK RETURNS
Far above Earth, on the dark side of the Moon, Jack Storm felt the shift.
Something new.
Something wrong.
"…You did it," he whispered. "You really did it."
He spread his wings.
Light flared.
Jack returned to Earth in a streak of fire.
He descended over a military base where Stormcatcher waited.
Two storms.
One born of Hell.
One built by humanity.
They stared at each other across a cracked runway.
Jack's red eyes narrowed.
"…What did you make?"
Stormcatcher raised his fists.
"You," he said calmly.
The sky darkened.
The world held its breath.