Shadow Slave: The Four Horseman of Deviants

'Shit, shit, shit! Where the hell did the budget go?!'

Pacing around the student council office, Will tried to calm himself, but the weight of the situation felt suffocating. He needed to act now before the day ended.

"Who was the last one handling the budget?" he asked, trying to keep his tone steady, though frustration seeped through. "Who?!"

"It was me."

A girl with short hair and brown eyes raised her hand hesitantly.

"Where did you leave the budget?"

"I-I left it here, Liam..." She pointed at the table in front of them. "I swear I left it here."

"Then where is it?!"

The girl recoiled, trembling under Will's sharp tone.

"I-I don't know…" she stammered, tears starting to stream down her face.

The rest of the group exchanged uneasy glances, guilt written all over their faces. None of them seemed to have any idea what had happened—or who might have taken the money.

'Shit…' Will cursed under his breath.

"I'll go to the faculty office and check the cameras. You guys should go home—it's getting late."

Without a word, everyone shuffled out of the room, leaving Will alone.

He began searching the office one more time, checking every corner, every drawer, and even under the furniture. But no matter where he looked, there was nothing.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Will scratched his head and slammed the door shut on his way out. His mind raced with questions.

*Was she lying? Could she really have left the money here?*

And why would she leave the budget on the table, of all places? As the Budgeting Manager, she should've known better.

'Fucking hell… And I thought I could rely on these people.'

He clenched his fists in frustration.

Walking through the halls, Will spotted Damian at his locker. Not wanting to deal with him, he took another route.

'Focus, Will. You're the president. You take full responsibility for your people's actions. You manage them, but you can't control them. That's why you need to take charge of this mess.'

Eventually, he reached the faculty office. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he knocked on the door.

It opened to reveal Mr. Benedict, his history teacher, who looked less than pleased.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want?" he said in an annoyed tone. "I'm about to close the office, so don't tell me you need the CCTV."

'What the fuck? Of course I need it!'

"Yes, sir, I need to check the cameras," Will replied as calmly as he could.

"Great. Well, you can do that tomorrow. I've got places to be."

Will clenched his fist but kept his composure.

"Sir, could you at least give me the keys? I'll return them first thing tomorrow."

Before Mr. Benedict could respond, someone placed a hand on Will's shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Benedict. Sorry for being late—I was about to close up all the rooms," Damian said casually.

The teacher brightened up. "Ah, Damian! Good to see you. I'll leave everything to you, then."

With that, Mr. Benedict left, leaving Will and Damian alone.

"What are you doing here?" Will asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Mr. Benedict asked me to lock up. Said he'd give me extra credit if I did," Damian said with a shrug.

"Isn't that irresponsible? Leaving a student to do a teacher's job? And keeping you here so late, no less."

Damian chuckled. "I don't mind. I live nearby, so it's not a big deal."

Will sighed. "Fine. Do you mind if I use the cameras in the faculty office?"

"Go ahead."

Damian headed off to lock the rest of the school, while Will stepped into the faculty office.

After scanning the CCTV footage for what felt like hours, Will leaned back in his chair, frustrated.

'There's nothing. She didn't even leave the money here. Could she have taken it for herself?'

He sighed heavily, his mind clouded with doubt. He checked the time on his phone and sure enough it was already late. He locked the door behind him and decided to go home.

…..

It had been a week and the budget hasn't been found. Will already confronted the girl from before but she kept on denying that she stole the money.

The school decided to cancel the Meet and greet, not only that, the school has forbidden the council to use the school's funds for future use.

Will became angry—not only to himself, but the others who he relied on.

How could they betray him like this?! He did everything right so that they would follow him in their own accord. However, pleasing them didn't even come into effect.

It didn't change that much at all.

Lying on his bed, disappointed at himself. He didn't know what to do, or how he would handle his next projects he had planned.

He couldn't trust anybody anymore. He needed to approach things with more skepticism next time.

"I'm going to make this right." He stared at his wall, his face darkened and full of unknowing source of determination.

…..

Another month had passed, and Will was preparing for yet another ambitious project. This time, he aimed to organize a middle school bazaar where outsiders could visit the school and purchase products made by the students.

He had already coordinated with the various school clubs, securing their agreement to participate and sell their goods during the event. His charm and articulation had been instrumental in winning their support. Now, all that remained was convincing the school administration to approve his proposal.

Standing in the school boardroom, Will presented his idea with confidence. He outlined the event's structure, the benefits it could bring to the school's reputation, and the collaboration among students that it would foster.

But not everyone shared his enthusiasm.

"I apologize, Mr. Hernandez," the principal began, her tone firm but polite. "We've decided not to proceed with your proposal for a middle school bazaar. While your plan is detailed and you've secured support from the clubs, the funding required for this project is substantial. Where do you plan to obtain the necessary funds?"

Will nodded, prepared for the question. "I've taken care of that, ma'am. Alongside contributions from the clubs and middle school students, I'd like to propose a voluntary donation drive among the student body. Additionally, I'm willing to personally contribute 25% of the targeted budget to ensure the event's success."

The principal exchanged skeptical glances with the other board members.

"Mr. Hernandez," she continued, "don't you think this project is too ambitious? What you're proposing resembles an event for high school or even college students. Have you considered the skill levels and management abilities of your peers? Events like this require a great deal of experience and coordination—are you certain your fellow students are prepared for such responsibilities?"

Will froze.

He had considered this, hadn't he?

The memory of the meet-and-greet event flashed through his mind. The misplaced budget, the mismanagement—it had been a disaster. He had entrusted others to handle key responsibilities, and it had all gone wrong.

How could he have forgotten that failure?

He was utterly embarrassed by it.

Before he could respond, the principal spoke again, her tone softer now. "I'm sorry, but your project will not be approved. Instead, I recommend you focus on events more suited to the school's capabilities, like the upcoming Halloween celebration."

Swallowing his disappointment, Will bowed his head. "Thank you for your time," he said curtly before leaving the room.

As he walked through the hallways, anger bubbled inside him, threatening to burst free. This wasn't like the budget fiasco—it wasn't about a mistake he could fix. His project had been rejected outright because it was deemed too ambitious, too unmanageable.

He clenched his fists.

'How could I be so naive?'

He ducked into the nearest restroom, locking himself in a stall. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he felt his resolve waver.

'What am I doing wrong?'

He had done everything right—or so he thought. He'd planned meticulously, rallied support, and even offered to shoulder part of the financial burden himself. Yet nothing seemed to work the way he wanted.

Frustration clawed at his chest. He wanted to scream, to let out all the pent-up emotions threatening to consume him. But he couldn't afford to let anyone see him crack—not as the student council president.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. His failures were piling up, but he couldn't let them define him.

Not yet.

…..

School had just ended, and Will left his classroom, heading toward martial arts practice.

As he walked through the hallway, he couldn't help but notice the stares. Whispers followed him like a shadow, though the students pretended to mind their own business.

He caught fragments of their hushed conversations, loud enough to reach his ears.

"Hey, isn't that Will? Didn't he accuse a girl of stealing money?"

"Yeah, I heard he lost the money himself and blamed her to cover it up."

Will clenched his jaw but chose to ignore them.

'Just shallow rumors at the end.'

But as he passed by the restroom, another pair of voices caught his attention.

"Did you hear? Will tried to force the Literature Club to sell their books at a bazaar."

"Yeah, and apparently, he pressured the Chess Club too. Total dictator move."

Will's fists tightened.

'What the hell?! That's not even close to the truth!'

He forced himself to keep walking, suppressing the rising anger in his chest. He couldn't let these rumors get the best of him, but the more he heard, the harder it became to ignore.

When he reached his locker, he opened it silently, stuffing his books inside without much thought. He didn't even need them to study.

Suddenly, he felt someone approach from behind. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with one of the football jocks, his expression dark and furious.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Will asked, genuinely confused.

The jock scoffed, his tone laced with hostility. "You hurt my girlfriend, didn't you?"

"Huh? I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb! You accused her of stealing money, you asshole!"

Will froze. 'Wait… that was her?'

"And not just that," the jock continued, stepping closer. "You beat her up. Who the hell does that to a girl?"

What the actual hell? That never happened! Will's mind raced. That lying bitch!

He took a deep breath, clinging to the last shred of his composure. "Look, I'm sorry for accusing your girlfriend of stealing. I really am," he said, keeping his voice steady. "But I didn't lay a hand on her. I would never do that."

The jock's eyes narrowed. "Then explain this."

He shoved his phone into Will's face. On the screen was a photo of the girl, her face and arms covered in red bruises.

Will's stomach dropped. What the hell is going on?

"Where did she even get those?" he muttered, more to himself than to the jock.

"Don't play innocent, bro. Just confess already—you're the one who did it!"

"And I'm telling you, I didn't touch her!"

The tension between them was suffocating. Will could feel his emotions boiling over, but he knew better than to let them explode.

Getting into a fight here won't solve anything, he thought bitterly. If I lose control, I'll risk expulsion.

Without another word, Will turned and walked away, leaving the jock fuming behind him. He didn't stop until he was far from the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest.

He couldn't go to martial arts practice, not like this. All he wanted was to go home and get away from it all.

….

Will rushed upstairs as soon as he got home, slamming the door to his room behind him. He threw himself onto the bed and yanked the blanket over his head, shutting out the world.

He didn't have the energy to think about school tomorrow, let alone face the endless rumors and accusations.

*How am I even supposed to manage all of this?*

The thought clawed at his mind. He could ask his mom for help—she'd try to fix this, as moms always do. But the very idea felt like a knife twisting in his pride.

*No. I made this mess. I'll deal with it myself.*

But that resolve didn't make him feel stronger. It made him feel utterly alone.

Drained and mentally blocked, Will just wanted to escape. To sleep. To wake up and find that somehow, by some miracle, this nightmare had ended.

He closed his eyes and drifted into uneasy sleep.

"…"

"...So this is your greatest fear?"

A voice, low and ominous, sliced through the silence.

Will's eyes shot open. The familiar warmth of his room was gone, replaced by suffocating darkness.

"Failure," the voice hissed, dripping with malice.

Will turned frantically, searching for the source. But there was nothing. Just shadows. Then, a faint light blinked in the distance. Without thinking, he began to walk toward it.

And then he ran.

He didn't know why or where he was going. All he knew was that he had to keep running.

Fury burned in his chest, a wildfire of anger and hatred. Hatred for the people who doubted him, who spread lies, who turned him into their scapegoat.

He screamed, over and over, his voice raw and ragged.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The voice returned, this time closer. Whispering. Twisting.

"You're the victim. They deserve this. 'Kill them', and it'll all go away."

A cold breath ghosted past his ear.

"What are you waiting for?"

Suddenly, horrible visions sprang to life around him. People shunning him, sneering at him. His failures parading in vivid detail—being expelled, humiliated, torn apart by everyone he once respected.

His breaths quickened, chest heaving. Dread twisted in his stomach, choking him.

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't know!"

He clawed at his hair, yanking it out in tufts, blood trickling down his scalp. His nails tore into his skin, leaving streaks of red.

Dark, thick blood began to seep from his eyes, and he fell to his knees.

The images kept coming—past mistakes, present humiliations, and future failures all merging into a torrent of chaos.

CONFUSION. His mind was a labyrinth with no escape.

ANGER. His heart pounded, screaming to be let out.

HATRED. He blamed everyone who doubted him, who betrayed him.

GUILT. The approval he craved so desperately slipped through his fingers.

VANITY. Everything he did, every effort he made—was it all just for himself?

PATHETIC. That's what he was.

A parasite, leeching off the world, offering nothing in return.

He was nothing.

From the suffocating darkness, a figure emerged. Its skeletal hands reached for him, long and gnarled, its body cloaked in writhing black mist. Its face was obscured, but its voice was sharp and cutting, a blade of despair.

"Give up, William Hernandez," it growled. "Your efforts were in vain."

The figure loomed larger, towering over him. Will gazed up, his eyes hollow, his body trembling.

'What's the point?'

He had no answers. No fight left in him.

The world was cruel, and he wasn't strong enough to face it.

The figure reached down, its icy hands gripping his face. Will didn't resist. He didn't scream. He didn't speak.

He just knelt there, broken and still, as the creature lifted him into its jaws.

The last thing he felt was the crushing darkness swallowing him whole.

….

It felt like he was drifting in a vast, endless ocean, slowly sinking into its dark depths. The water was cold but strangely soothing, numbing every ache, every fear. He let himself be pulled under, deeper and deeper, away from the cruel world above.

Down here, no one could hurt him. No rumors, no accusations, no expectations. Just the quiet, all-encompassing embrace of the abyss. It felt… peaceful. Almost *right.*

But then, a voice pierced the stillness.

"Child… Do you want my help facing them?"

The voice was calm, devoid of malice, yet it sent a chill through the water around him.

"I could lend you a hand," it continued, "and in return, you will assist me when I call upon you."

Will hesitated. The words felt foreign, distant, as though they were meant for someone else. He didn't care anymore. What was the point? He was done fighting.

"I see," the voice said softly, almost regretful. "So you don't care about what happens to your loved ones—your friends, your parents. They will die, you know. Sooner than you think."

Will's eyes snapped open. His chest tightened.

*Was that a threat?*

"Yes," the voice replied without hesitation. "And if you refuse me, I'll have no choice but to ensure their deaths myself."

Rage flared in Will's chest, but it was quickly smothered by fear.

*Why should I trust you?*

"You don't have much of a choice," the voice replied, growing colder. "Can't you feel it? You're being *digested* as we speak."

A sharp realization hit him like a punch to the gut. *Right… I've been eaten by Vanity. That fucking bastard!*

Suddenly, the suffocating calm of the ocean shattered. Will's lungs burned. He thrashed wildly, desperate for air, but no matter how hard he screamed, only bubbles rose from his mouth. The darkness pressed in tighter, squeezing the life out of him.

*Okay! Okay!* he thought frantically. *I want to live! I'll take your deal! Is that what you want?*

The voice chuckled softly, its satisfaction palpable. "Good. Then our contract is sealed."

A searing pain shot through Will's neck, spreading down his chest and wrapping around his torso. He gasped as a mark, coiled like a dragon, etched itself into his skin, glowing faintly in the darkness.

Then, everything began to change.

A blinding light erupted from his body, piercing through the dark ocean like a sword. The oppressive waters recoiled, shattering around him like fragile glass. The illusion crumbled, breaking apart piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the light.

And within that light, Will floated, no longer drowning, but still unsure of what lay ahead.

….

Back within the Seventh Core, Vanity loomed over Will, its monstrous, fragmented forms encircling him like a predator toying with its prey. Tendrils of dark energy lashed out, wrapping tighter around his body, pulling him into the abyss. Vanity's voice dripped with malice as it leaned closer, its countless eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

"It's over, little parasite," it sneered, its grin stretching impossibly wide. "Your struggles, your ambitions—they were always meaningless. Surrender to me, and let me consume you. It's the only thing you're good for."

Will's body trembled as the tendrils constricted, crushing his ribs and stealing the air from his lungs. He wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come. It felt as though the weight of the entire world was pressing down on him, drowning him in despair.

But then, a light—blinding, searing, and pure—erupted from deep within him, shattering Vanity's tendrils and throwing its shadowy forms backward.

Vanity recoiled, screeching as it shielded itself from the radiance.

"What?!" it bellowed, its voice a mix of disbelief and fury. "Impossible! How did you break free?!"

Will stood, his body glowing faintly, a calm yet terrifying rage simmering in his eyes. The mark of the dragon burned on his skin, its golden lines pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. A weapon materialized in his hands—a massive, jagged battle axe, its surface dark yet shimmering with veins of molten light.

Will's voice was low but carried an undeniable weight.

"FUCK YOU!"

He gestured a middle finger towards Vanity.

He raised the Plagued Ravager high and swung it with all his strength, cleaving through one of Vanity's fleet of shadowy forms. The creature shrieked, disintegrating into ash as the axe tore through it, sending shockwaves through the Core.

"You think you can control me?!" Will roared, stepping forward with another swing. Vanity's forms scattered, some reforming in the distance, while others were obliterated entirely by the devastating blows.

Vanity lashed out in desperation, its tendrils surging toward him like a tidal wave. Will dodged the first strike, rolling to the side, and brought his axe upward in a powerful arc. The weapon collided with the tendrils, severing them cleanly, their ends dissolving into black mist.

"You're NOTHING without me!" Vanity howled, its voice reverberating across the Core. It multiplied itself, a sea of shadowy duplicates rushing toward Will from all sides.

Will planted his feet firmly and gritted his teeth. "And you're nothing but a coward hiding behind lies!"

The battle axe glowed brighter, resonating with his fury. He swung it in a wide arc, unleashing a shockwave of golden energy that tore through the horde, scattering Vanity's copies like leaves in a storm. The ground beneath them cracked and splintered under the force of his attacks.

Vanity reformed above him, its shadowy mass looming larger than before. "I am your failure, your weakness! You can't escape me!" It descended like a crashing wave, its claws aiming to crush him.

Will didn't flinch. As Vanity came crashing down, he leapt into the air with an animalistic roar, meeting the shadow head-on. The Plagued Ravager struck true, splitting Vanity's form in two.

The creature howled in agony as Will landed, the force of his strike sending tremors through the Core. But Vanity wasn't done. Its fragments coalesced into a towering figure, its jagged limbs stretching toward the sky.

"You dare defy me?!" it roared, summoning spears of darkness that rained down on Will.

Will sprinted forward, weaving through the onslaught with an agility that defied belief. Each time a spear landed, it exploded in a cloud of black smoke, but Will didn't falter. His eyes were locked on Vanity, his grip on the axe tightening with every step.

As he closed the distance, Vanity raised a massive claw to swat him away, but Will ducked beneath it and swung the Plagued Ravager upward. The blade connected with Vanity's arm, severing it at the joint. The creature screamed, its form flickering as it stumbled back.

Will didn't give it a chance to recover. He charged, his every step shaking the ground, and leapt onto Vanity's chest. Using his axe as a climbing tool, he scaled the monstrous form, dragging the blade through its flesh-like shadows.

Vanity thrashed and roared, trying to shake him off. "You're nothing! A parasite! A failure!"

Will climbed higher, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. "I'm more than you'll ever be!"

Reaching Vanity's head, he raised the Plagued Ravager for a final, devastating blow. The axe gleamed with an unearthly light, its edges vibrating with power.

"This is for every time you made me doubt myself."

He brought the axe down with all his strength, driving it into Vanity's core. The impact was catastrophic. A burst of light erupted from the wound, consuming Vanity's form in an explosion of golden flames.

Vanity let out one last, piercing scream as its body disintegrated into nothingness, leaving only silence in its wake.

Will landed heavily, his knees hitting the cracked ground. He was panting, his body trembling from the exertion, but he was alive. He glanced at the mark of the dragon on his body, its glow now faint but steady.

The Seventh Core was still. Will had won, but deep down, he knew this was far from over.

His gaze shifted to the unguarded core—a dark, pulsating mass that seemed to mock him with every beat. Shadows still flickered faintly around it, a lingering presence of Vanity's influence. Without hesitation, he gripped the Plagued Ravager tightly and approached the core.

He took a deep breath, his muscles coiling with tension, and leapt into the air. With a feral cry, he brought the battle axe crashing down. The core trembled violently, a massive crack splintering across its surface.

But Will didn't stop. He landed heavily and immediately swung the axe again, each blow fueled by the raw emotions surging within him—anger, frustration, and a stubborn refusal to ever let Vanity control him again.

The core pulsed erratically, black smoke pouring from the cracks as if trying to repair itself. But Will was relentless. He dashed around the core, hammering it from every angle, his strikes growing faster and more ferocious.

"You're done!" he roared, smashing the core once more. "No more lies, no more control!"

The core began to crumble, shards of its dark mass flying into the air as it released an ear-piercing screech. Each fragment dissolved into nothingness, and with every swing of his axe, the oppressive atmosphere of the Seventh Core lightened.

Finally, with one last, thunderous strike, the core shattered completely. A blinding light burst forth, engulfing the entire space. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the remnants of Vanity's domain dissolving into golden particles.

Then, a notification appeared before him, its words glowing faintly in the void.

[You have shattered the Seven cores of the Giant of Chaos.]


[The chains of self-doubt have been broken.]

[You refused to surrender to despair.]


[You have faced your failure and risen stronger.]

[Two beings stirs in the void beyond existence.]

[You have defeated Awakened Beast, Pride]

[You have defeated Awakened Monster, Gluttony]

[You have defeated Awakened Monster, Envy]

[You have defeated Awakened Demon, Wrath]

[You have defeated Awakened Devil, Greed].

[You have defeated Awakened Tyrant, Lust].

[You have defeated Awakened Terrors, The Three Sins of Despair].

[You have faced your failure and risen stronger.]

[You have achieved the Impossible]

[Wake up, William Hernandez! Your Nightmare is over].

[Prepare for Appraisal].