The Evil that Lurks

Chapter One: The Embodiment of Obsession

(Third POV)

January 25th, 8590

The clock ticked with a soft, maddening precision of time itself, each second a reminder of the relentless hunt. The dim glow of holographic screens filled the room, casting an eerie light on the sleek, metallic surfaces. Detective Alaric Cain stood at the edge of his desk, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, veins bulging like ropes beneath his skin. He was a monument to fury, an implacable force poised at the breaking point.

With a roar, Alaric slammed his palms onto the desk. The metal groaned under his fury, warping slightly under the pressure—just shy of cracking. "SHIT!" The word was a raw, primal, an outburst of rage he hadn't allowed himself in years. His jaw locked tight, a snarl twisting his features, and he inhaled sharply, but the fire in his chest refused to die.

Twenty-five years. Twenty-five long, wasted years. And still, he slipped through his fingers. The criminal—The True Embodiment of Evil, the one who had haunted Alaric's every waking thought—was still out there.

The man who had slaughtered, mutilated, and broken everything in his path, had vanished again, right when Alaric had almost, almost, caught him.

Alaric's fingers raked through his jet-black hair, the strands catching the dim, flickering light of his office. His silver-gray eyes narrowed, almost glowing, cold as the void itself. Despite his fifty years of life, super-nanotechnology kept his body frozen at the pinnacle of his prime—youthful, striking, a walking monument to human perfection. His chiseled muscles, his sharp jawline, the icy sheen to his hair—none of it mattered. Not anymore.

What mattered was the face of the monster he had sworn to capture.

The room around him buzzed with the faint hum of technology, holographic images flashing before him. Case files, criminal reports, crime scene footage—all hovered in the air like fragments of a nightmare. Alaric's gaze focused on the largest screen. A blank human silhouette. Empty. Formless. Featureless.

And beneath it, the numbers stared back at him.

AGE: Permanently biologically and chronologically frozen at 30
TIME ACTIVE: 200 years
Victims: 95.5 Billion.

The digits didn't seem real. They couldn't be. The number was a mockery, a testament to the hopelessness of his pursuit. His throat constricted as he scrolled through an endless litany of horrors. This wasn't just a killer. This was a force of nature. The man—no, the creature—who had torn the very fabric of existence apart. Whole cities reduced to dust. Entire species wiped from the universe for sport. The echoes of his malice reverberated across galaxies, leaving behind nothing but the corpses of those who dared to resist.

Genocide. Torture. Psychological warfare. Universal slaughter. He had done it all.

And yet... despite all the technology, the relentless pursuit by the Stellar System, the intergalactic enforcers, the psychic operatives, no one had come close. There was no trail. No leads. No fingerprints. No DNA. No name. No face. Only his presence—like a stain upon the universe that refused to wash away.

Alaric let out a low, guttural growl, swiping the holograms away from his desk and leaning back into his chair. The weight of failure settled on his chest like a hundred-ton stone. How had it come to this? How had he—the greatest detective in the universe—failed so miserably?

He should have caught him by now. He should have been able to solve this. But this man... this monster... was unlike any criminal Alaric had ever faced.

"He blends into society like it's nothing," Alaric muttered, voice thick with frustration. "He could be anyone. Anywhere. And no one would know until it's too late."