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The next few chapters are going to be about Levi's past. New characters (Some will not be mentioned again after this few chapters) are going to be involved.
🛑 Content Warning: Some scenes could have triggering effects on some readers. You are free to skip as it only shows a character past.
Although note that it adds information about the character.
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"Некоторые монстры рождаются из теней. Другие, как я, вырезаны из горя — лезвие за лезвием, пока не останется ничего, кроме мести в облике мальчика." _/@#($
Levi Smith never wondered who his father was.
He didn't have to.
His mother, Anya Smith, was everything. Her smile lit the dullest mornings. Her voice could calm storms. She scrubbed houses for a living and still came home with warmth in her eyes. Tired hands that never failed to hold him close. She had the voice of an angel, his favorite happening of the day was to listen to her sing him lullabies while he slept on her lap.
She called him Atlas.
Because even as a child, she said he had the heart to carry the world.
They lived at a decent two-bedroom apartment in a quiet corner of Brooklyn. She never spoke of his father, and Levi never asked. He didn't need another parent. He had love, peace, warmth — enough to make the world feel right.
Until he turned fifteen.
That day was ordinary. He kissed her cheek before running out to get groceries, the sound of the beautiful rhythm she played on the small piano in their living room lingering in his ears.
He came back to silence.
The front door was ajar.
Groceries fell from his hands when he saw her — crumpled on the floor, blood blooming beneath her like a rose garden of violence. Shards of her glasses pierced her face. Her eyes flickered open at the sound of his voice, her breath labored.
"Atlas…" she whispered.
And then… nothing.
The world split.
Levi ran to her, pulled her into his arms, screaming, shaking, begging—but she was already slipping away. Then came the men. Tall. Cold. Dressed in black. No words spoken. Just the sharp sting of a needle in his neck.
And darkness.
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He woke to metal.
Chains bit into his wrists. His mouth was gagged. Eyes sunken. He was strapped to a chair bolted to the floor in a room that smelled of mold and silence. Time melted away. Hunger gnawed at him like rats in the dark. His throat ached from screaming. Then crying. Then silence.
All he had was the sound of her voice in his head.
Atlas…
Over and over.
A lullaby turned curse.
Days passed. Weeks maybe. He didn't know.
Until light stabbed through the dark.
The door opened. Boots echoed. Three men stepped in. The one in front was impossible to ignore — 6'2", eyes the color of an evergreen forest, black hair, a face carved by pride and power. His suit looked like it cost more than everything Levi and his mother ever owned. His presence made the air heavier.
The man gave an order in Russian. The guards unclipped Levi's chains. He didn't resist — too weak. But his eyes held fire.
"Atlas," the man said. The name rolled off his tongue like mockery.
Levi blinked. Something in him flinched.
"That is what she called you?" A cruel smirk touched his lips. "At least she gave you something before she died. I suppose that was her one act of worth."
Levi lunged.
But the guards slammed him back into the chair.
"I am your father," the man said. "Vadim Gazdanov. And your real life begins now. You'll forget her. She made you soft. Useless. The weakest of my sons."
Levi's breath hitched.
Sons?
Vadim continued. "Your older brother has already begun his training. Two years ahead of you. Strong boy. Brutal. Loyal. The youngest — just thirteen — found me himself. His mother was trash, but he begged to leave her. You… well, you're all heart. Just like your mother. That's your flaw."
Then he stood.
"You will become my son in truth, or you will die in disgrace. The choice is yours Levi Gazdanov."
The door shut again. Darkness returned.
But Levi was no longer the same boy.
Pain, despair, grief — they formed something new in him. Something cold. Heavy. Alive.
He had no power now. But one day he would.
And when that day came…
He'd make them all pay.
He would bury this world in fire.
He would burn every name that ever touched his mother's blood.
And when they begged to know why, he would say:
"Because she called me Atlas."