Yes! He's the god of acting

In the dim twilight of Frostbite Street, the air hung thick and still, as though time itself had frozen. The sky was a blanket of grey clouds, low and oppressive, casting an intangible weight upon the earth. Two figures stood before a dilapidated wooden door, their forms a tangle of hesitation and fear. Lily gripped the key in her hand, sweat beading on her forehead, her fingers trembling so violently she almost couldn't force the key into the lock. She and Vito seemed burdened by an invisible weight, their steps faltering, as if walking toward a fate from which there could be no escape.

"What... what do we do now?" Lily's voice was almost inaudible, as though she were speaking to the fear that coiled within her.

"What else can we do?" Vito's voice cut through the silence, reverberating in the empty street, each word like a death sentence to their hopeless future. "We go in, grab everything we can carry, and leave—go to the Fifth District, or the Sixth, anywhere away from here, far from this decaying land."

Lily's gaze became vacant, her mind adrift. She barely noticed the emptiness in Vito's voice, how he had lost all hope, as if his spirit had already left him. She whispered, "But... it's still inside. What if it wakes up?"

Without turning, Vito's eyes remained fixed on the muddy footprints beneath them. He checked carefully, confirming that they had indeed gone. His voice was firm, yet laced with an underlying uncertainty. "It's gone." The words were short, heavy—like a sedative he had administered to himself.

They pushed the door open, and the air inside was thick with the musty scent of rotting wood and mildew. Without hesitation, they sprang into action. The fabric of the sacks rasped as their hands hastily filled them. Every item they took seemed to be an act of defiance, an attempt to wrestle something—anything—back from the clutches of an inevitable fate.

But this wasn't merely a flight from danger. Lily's hand froze mid-air as her eyes fixated on the axe. It had once been a simple tool for self-defense, but now, it seemed to carry a weight far greater than its physical presence. It was a symbol—one that had transcended its practical purpose. After a brief moment of hesitation, Vito stuffed it into the sack.

"You go to the bedroom, I'll take the living room," Vito's voice was mechanical, devoid of emotion, as if the gravity of the situation had hollowed him out.

As they hurriedly slung the sacks over their shoulders and prepared to leave, Lily suddenly stopped. Her voice wavered with a new unease. "What about Henry? What if he comes back?"

"We'll head for the Second District first. We'll find him, and then we'll leave together," Vito glanced back at her, his expression unflinching, driven by the singular obsession to survive, to escape.

"He'll come looking for his brother…" Lily whispered, her fear no longer rooted in the danger of the "calamity," but in the inescapable approach of death itself.

"His brother is dead," Vito's words were a blade, severing any connection to the past without mercy.

They locked eyes for a brief moment, and then, suddenly, the soft sound of a key turning in the lock shattered the silence. It felt like a dull hook piercing through their hearts, freezing them in place. The door creaked open, and a boy stepped inside, his face untouched by the shadows of the world, exuding an innocent, almost naive calm.

"Dad, Mom, where are you going?" William's voice floated in, as if from a distant place, filled with an inexplicable sense of ease and confusion.

That voice tore through Lily and Vito, leaving them stiff and pale. In that moment, all the fragments of their thoughts and memories collapsed in on themselves.

Outside, the voice of the enforcers echoed like something distant, almost from another world: "Suspected high-risk disaster in the area! The Third District is now on lockdown! No one is allowed in or out!"

Lily and Vito exchanged confused looks, their senses overwhelmed as if their very souls had been ripped away. The sound of hooves pounding the cobblestone street and the distant shouts of the enforcers filled the small room with a nameless dread. William glanced at them and furrowed his brow. "You don't need to worry, the disaster seems to have moved on. The street's fine, isn't it?"

Lily could barely breathe. Her eyes reflected a strange, twisted world, while William's eyes held nothing but innocent confusion. She tried to tell herself that this boy was not the calamity, but deep down, she understood that the disaster wasn't some physical entity—it was the darkness of human nature, that overwhelming sense of nihilism and void that had been buried deep within them all along.

Then, without warning, William casually mentioned something strange: "By the way, Mom, the sausage you left for me this morning smelled amazing. How did you make it?"

Lily and Vito froze, their minds racing. That memory was a blank space, a void from the night they had gone to the graveyard. How could there have been a sausage? As they frantically recalled everything from last night, panic surged inside them. Lily's face drained of color, her voice trembling, "When did you leave him the sausage?"

"I never left any sausage," Vito whispered, his own unease growing. Doubt and fear began to creep in.

Meanwhile, William, still in the kitchen, casually continued: "That sausage was a little tough, though. Can you make it softer tomorrow?" He turned back toward them with a small smile.

That smile was the final blow to Lily's sanity. She suddenly understood: the "calamity" wasn't out there—it was lurking within the very people and things they thought they knew best.

"What do you think we've been to you?" Vito's voice broke the silence, his words sharp and unexpected.

William looked at him in confusion. "You've been great. If you hadn't taken me in, I'd have died on the streets."

The words cut deep, like knives. Lily couldn't ignore the smile on this boy's face. It was cold, empty, like a yawning abyss.

"What if one day Henry gets sick, and only your heart can save him? Would you save him?" Vito's voice was thick with unspoken anguish.

William froze, his mind spinning with fractured memories, like echoes from a bottomless pit. "I... I..." His hand clutched his head, as if trying to hold onto some semblance of coherence.

Suddenly, everything went black in his mind, and a flood of memories came rushing back—the crossing with the Gray Realm, the searing darkness, the terror like nothing he had ever known. The truth was torn asunder, and at last, William looked at Vito and Lily, understanding everything.

"So... you killed him..." William's voice was hoarse, filled with grief and confusion. "Does Henry know?"

Vito's eyes flashed with guilt and regret. Slowly, he reached into the sack, his fingers brushing the handle of the axe.

"You're dead. You shouldn't be here." Vito's voice cracked as he fought to hold back his tears, his eyes wild with madness and finality.

The moment the axe was raised, time seemed to stop, the air frozen in place. Vito's eyes were bloodshot, and he gripped the axe tightly, his voice ragged.

"No matter what's occupying your body... I will set you free."

A distant thunder rumbled across the darkened sky.

The axe was lifted high... and then swung down with all his might.

Thud.

Warmth splattered across Vito's face, and the crimson blood blossomed like a twisted bouquet across the floor. William's body collapsed to the ground, making a muffled thud.

The axe had buried itself in his neck, nearly severing his head. His wide, lifeless eyes stared vacantly into nothingness, his face still twisted in confusion and pain.

He was dead.

No heartbeat, no breath, his body slowly growing cold like a martyr fallen in a sea of red flowers.

Vito's chest heaved with desperate breaths as he stared at the lifeless body, his shirt drenched in sweat.

"Is he... dead?" Lily's voice cracked, her body slumping in the chair.

"…Dead."

"What about the calamity?"

Vito paused, his mind clouded with confusion. "…I don't know."

Lily gazed at the lifeless body, her voice a whisper. "Do you think... maybe he wasn't the calamity? Maybe God has given us another chance at redemption?"

"If that's the case..." Vito forced a grim smile, "then we really do deserve to go to hell."