Kael’s hands shook. For the first time, he saw his father not as an invincible monster, but as a man who had been taught cruelty and had chosen to master it. That was worse—and better. Worse, because it meant Malakor’s evil was deliberate. Better, because it meant cruelty was not destiny.
In the city of Veridia, where neon lights flickered against ancient stone, a teenager named Kael carried a secret heavier than any sin. His father, Malakor, was not a man who yelled or struck. He was worse. He was a demon of quiet erosion—a master of turning hope into debt, love into leverage, and truth into a trap. demon father
When Malakor demanded Kael “volunteer” at the firm to learn “family loyalty,” Kael agreed—but he secretly contacted a legal aid clinic. He didn’t try to take down the empire. He just asked one question: How do I leave without being destroyed? Kael’s hands shook
By fifteen, Kael believed he was worthless. His father had a file on every mistake, every doubt, every moment of weakness. “You are my blood,” Malakor would say, “and blood serves. You want freedom? Prove you deserve it. But you never will. That’s the truth.” Worse, because it meant Malakor’s evil was deliberate