Prologue: The Beginning

Disclaimer: If you are stupid and think I own DxD, then sorry to burst your bubble. I don't. If I did, then DxD wouldn't have failed as much.

Summary: He dethroned kings, seeking an end. Yet, as he embraced death, it turned him away. Perhaps his story was never meant to end?

Also, this is gonna be a dark story. It may not be as dark as some you might find on this platform, but be warned nonetheless. This is not for the weak.

I look around in boredom, sipping the tea from my cup. The dark sky, high buildings, and all the people and cars passing by frantically. I can't see anything else interesting, other than the enraged expressions of everyone passing by.

Through the hazy window of this run-down cafe, not much is visible. Time had indeed changed this place. I remember working here some years ago, serving everyone who came and watching them eat.

Now, this place is being shut down. A new building will take its place.

I go back to watching the cracked and webbed walls listlessly.

I am Carlos Linkin.

I was born into an impoverished family. We didn't have much money, but at least we were happy with what we had. My parents didn't even have enough money for me. All my requests to Santa asking for a sibling were left unanswered.

My father, Kisuke Linkin, was a construction worker. Working hard every day for his family. He was a Japanese-American. He always used to tell me about how beautiful his mom and Japan were. I never got to see any of them.

My mother, Sera Linkin, was a traditional woman. My dad loved that about her, he said it reminded him of his mom. She stayed at home and took care of me, both due to her nature and her weak body.

My mother suffered from an unknown disease.

We never knew what it was. Hospitals charged a shit ton for their tests and all the money my father managed to earn was spent on my education and running the house.

It was only in the far future that I came to know it was cancer.

They wanted me to become a Doctor, so I could cure my mother. How foolish those dreams look now that I know the truth.

But before I was even into my teenage years, I lost her.

I still remember that day when I opened the door only to see her lying down in a pool of her own blood. I didn't know what to do. I just froze.

I still wish that I had done something. Anything.

Maybe she would have still been with me if I was not so scared. Dad wouldn't have turned into an alcoholic if I had called for an ambulance that day.

We all would have lived happily if not for my fear. Alas, it's all in the past.

I was devastated at that time. It had taken a month to stop myself from randomly bursting into tears at the thought.

Dad and I were left alone in our house. He wanted to cry and grieve for his wife too, but he still had to take care of me.

He bottled up his feelings and got back to work in 2 days. Despite all this, he still loved and cared for me.

Even while broken, he was a great father. Yet he was still human.

He worked harder to forget mom. He obviously failed like every person who loved. He never got over her. I know that cause I remember sometimes waking up at night and hearing him sob.

He tried to make me happy. He tried to fulfil my every wish. But he still couldn't bring back mom nor could he stop drinking. No matter how much my naive self had pleaded.

This type of life affected him greatly. He turned to alcohol to relieve his pain and sorrow. His co-workers encouraged him to drink more, saying things like, "It would drown your sorrows".

It didn't.

He was pronounced dead after his body had been found dumped in a river. The crime was determined to be a mugging gone wrong.

The one responsible for my orphaning was found soon due to being irresponsible. The murderer was sentenced to a hefty 37 years of jail time.

I still remember staring at that man's scared eyes and wondering what could possibly drive him to rob me of my father. My everything.

I grew up from the age of 10 with no mother and was completely orphaned at 14. Living alone in a small dirty house. I had no relative that could take care of me, and no neighbour wanted to get involved.

The only source of income I had was some small chores I did around the town. No one wanted to hire a fourteen years old kid, but luckily I looked older than my peers. These chores earnt me just enough to not die of starvation.

Some would say that I should've just killed myself, relieving myself from the pain of living this hopeless life. They would be partially correct. I once shot myself. Or atleast tried to.

Father had a gun, a simple pistol. Mom and I knew about his love for weapons.

I chuckled and took a big sip from my cup, remembering how his eyes would light up whenever he polished his gun.

Truly American of him.

Despite our requests for him to perhaps explore his interests, he remained adamant about prioritising us over himself. It didn't help that guns were so expensive.

A year later, on the day my father died, I had decided to use the same gun my father used to love, to end it all.

It had 6 bullets. And one of them would have claimed my life that day, if not for my cowardice.

I had aimed for my head but due to fear, my hand shook and I missed.

It was a close call, the bullet missed me by 2-3 inches. The bullet has lodged itself into the wall instead of my head.

I didn't die.

After this realisation hit me, I had laughed hysterically.

Laughed at my own weakness.

I remember questioning myself. Why did I want to still cling to this life?

Memories with my family resurfaced, throwing me down the lane of nostalgia.

'The thing that saddens the most is not the absence of someone. It's the memories created with them.' Whoever it was that said it, was right.

I had lost them and yet the memories that remained only increased my pain.

At that time, I was upset. Upset over my fate, thinking that I was cursed by the heavens.

In hindsight, my actions were really illogical.

It must have been those TV Dramas mom made me watch with her, fucking with my mind.

I had made up my mind back then.

I was out for the blood of those who were the cause of my mom's death. My father was already dead and avenged.

I would avenge her and father's death… Or so I would like to say. But there was no one to blame. This fact settled in after I got down from the high pedestal I was putting myself on.

I was confused and was suffering from God knows how many psychological conditions.

That day if someone had entered my house, they would have witnessed a very interesting scene.

A child holding a gun, looking confused as fuck, and alternating his expressions between laughing and crying.

In this confusion, I had taken the very rational path of finding people who shared the same fate as me. I wanted people who could sympathize with me.

I also held out hope that maybe doing this would lead me to some enlightenment on what to do next.

I had thought it would be hard to find them. It's not like families are destroyed by the death of a person on a daily basis. It also wasn't like people everywhere were suffering.

Right?

Within weeks I had found 13 people who were in the same conditions as me. To say the least, I was quite baffled at that time.

This had made me question whether there was a reason behind so many of these seemingly different cases.

A reason behind all this suffering.

I still don't know how, but my mind recovered from that haze of destructive thoughts and chose reasoning over being emotional.

I asked everyone I met about what they think is the cause, and their answers varied in terms of complexity.

Some were philosophical and called that suffering a natural part of living. I had laughed at them, how could that happy smiling couple with an only child be suffering? They had money after all.

It's only later that I realised that even that couple can be suffering. Perhaps even more that me.

Anyway, I pieced together the simple and complex answers to the question, and arrived at the common object in all the responses I got from everyone.

It was money. Or the lack thereof.

That was a very simplified answer and yet it was the truth. If some people weren't hoarding so much, perhaps we wouldn't suffer as much.

When it clicked, it clicked hard.

The old lady, who was the last one I asked, had freaked out so much back then. Geez, can't a 14-15 year old child burst out in a maniacal laughter. It is completely normal!

The old lady lived for quite a long time. I had attended her funeral just last year. It was for the better, honestly. She had suffered just as much as me, if not more.

From that conversation, I had found the reason behind her pain. My pain. Our pain.

Money, a thing created by humanity. Just special pieces of paper for which people were willing to die.

If my dad had more of that, all of this could have been prevented. He did his best and still got nothing worthy. What was the reason behind that?

Workers are not paid enough. Why is that so?

The big corporations don't want to spend more than necessary. They want to maximize their profits. They want to do so because that's humane.

What's not humane is to cause unnecessary pain to others in order to achieve said profits.

There were rumours going around the internet that some pharmaceutical industries were intentionally hiding the progress of medical sciences to increase their profits.

The big pharmaceutical companies were the ones responsible for the death of not just my mom but every patient that died due to 'incurable' diseases.

I had, in a bout of pure teenager angst, taken these rumours at face value. A foolish thing to do.

But luckily, they were somewhat true, as I had come to find out in the near future.

I was extremely disgusted by this.

For the benefit of few, the majority had to suffer. I wanted to end this.

I had the aim ready, I just needed the plan now, and I had the perfect one. But only if it was that easy.

I had infiltrated a company, Phoenix Pharmaceuticals. A corporation that I suspected had many hidden experiments and research going on.

I got in as their IT Consultant and Cyber Security Expert.

While this may not sound hard, it was almost impossible for me. I had to first get an education and then pursue higher studies in Computer Science.

Which required something that was the root cause of my suffering. Money.

Though, it turns out that I was not cursed by the heavens. I got a scholarship after I won a competition.

It wasn't much. But it was more than enough to cover my education. I still did some menial chores like dishwashing and serving at cafes to earn side cash. Anyway, let's focus back on the future that is now my past.

I had been the perfect employee for them. I had the required education, I was not ambitious and I was definitely very trustworthy.

By some twisted mockery of fate, the corporation I chose to work in actually housed the research data of all the pharma companies. Acting as the data center for many similar corporations all around the world.

Apparently, they thought it had a "very safe and secure vault" due to not having any data leaks even before I joined.

What a fucked up luck I have. Well it worked out great.

What I had done, surely achieved what I had aimed for. The desire to be a 'hero' born out of a naive and childish mind, realised by years of efforts. Hahaha, how philosophical.

Now that everything was set, after years of creating very tight and obscure loopholes in their data storage.

I had leaked the data on the exact same date on which my mother died. I have finally avenged her. Now that all their research on cures for seemingly "incurable" diseases is out, many would benefit.

Years of careful planning. Years of painful acting. Years of nearly getting caught. All of these finally paid off.

I succeeded.

The proof of my success is the utter chaos that is the outside world. All governments must currently be busy controlling the public outburst. They should be failing miserably at that.

I am visiting this cafe for the last time. This is the end of my journey. Though I wish I had spent some time enjoying my life. I am sure my mother and father would have appreciated that more. Alas, my self-loathing won.

Maybe in the next life, it would be different.

I took the final sip of my tea. I wonder how enraged my boss and superiors would be after they find out that they can't even kill me, while I have ruined their lives and indirectly led them to their death.

I am starting to feel drowsy now.

The poison is showing its effects. I am slowly feeling its effects creep up. Fortunately, I was not dumb and had chosen a painless poison. I hate pain.

Sigh. This close to dying I am not sure if things could have been better. If my mother didn't have cancer. If she hadn't died, maybe we would have been a happy family. I could have become a scholar with my intelligence.

'What ifs' huh? A poison far worse than the one in my veins.

I have become whatever I am, due to my past. I have evolved from a naive child to someone who has made a change in this world. No matter how small or big of a change it is. I guess Dad would be proud of me.

Or not. Can never tell how an Asian parent's mind works.

Heh, thinking of memes on my deathbed? I guess Benjamin would be proud at least. He too was just an colleague however.

All my life, I have been alone. Whatever friends I had in the past were either fake or I had strained our relationship by not paying them attention.

I know I shouldn't have become so hyper-focused on my plan. It would have been great if I had friends with me. It would have made my plan and everything easier. Alas, I didn't believe in anyone until the end.

This world would have been so much better if we could create things out of thin air, like those magic spells from fantasy. We wouldn't need to worry about betrayal over materialistic things. I could have just cured my mother with some holy magic then.

It would make life so easy and fascinating if this was true.

God, I am sure those drugs didn't have intoxication in the list of their effects. Oh well, I guess these are the general thoughts of a dying man. What else would he think? Perhaps dream of a second chance.

Second chance, huh?

If I was going to reincarnate, I would prefer being an animal over a human. Animals are easier to understand. I had made sure to release all my pets into the wild. Wonder if that "little" sneaky snake of a python is eating someone right now. Hope it's not one of his brothers or sisters.

That would be funny and sad.

At least I am dying after bringing hope and happiness to so many people. I am sure they would remember me as a hero.

Or not.

Doesn't matter much. I am going to die anyway.

Slowly but surely, my eyes were closing. I guess this is the end.

And before I knew it, I was dead.

...

...What?

I try to move, but my body doesn't respond the way I expect. My limbs—no, where are my limbs? I can feel my body, but it's... wrong. Restrained. Smaller.

Panic claws at the edges of my mind, but I crush it. Think. Analyze.

What's the last thing I remember?

I was in a cafe, drinking tea. The poison was working. My thoughts were fading. I was dying. And then...

I'm here.

...Did I survive?

No. That's impossible. The poison was guaranteed to kill me.

Unless—

Did they find me in time? Somehow knew exactly what poison I used? Administer the perfect antidote? Why?

To save me? No. I ruined their lives. If they rescued me, it wouldn't be out of mercy. It would be for torture. Interrogation.

No, no, no.. There are too many coincidences with that. I can't possibly be destined for torture.

But then why do I feel... this?

Why does my body feel so wrong? Why can't I move the way I should?

Have they cut off my limbs?

I hastily take another mental step back. Another angle.

Maybe I never existed in the first place. Maybe everything I remember was a simulation.

Maybe I just escaped some form of Matrix.

The thought is absurd. But more relieving than having my limbs cut off. What else could it be?

Afterlife? Reincarnation? Something else?

I don't have enough data.

I inhale sharply. Or at least, the closest thing currently my body can do.

If this is real, then I perhaps have another shot. That should be a relief. But I don't feel relieved.

I feel... unease.

This body. This sensation.

Something is off.

Where the fuck am I?

AN: Well as you can see, my exams are over and I am ready to continue my stories. Well, not exactly. I have realised that I am not that good with Tensura, so I am going to rewrite Darwin Snake into DxD. As for Darwin Snake? I can continue it only after reading through Tensura LN (Which is unlikely to happen anytime soon)

Anyway this is the first chapter of the remake, Ouroboros Paradox. I have huge plans for this one. This is just to see your reactions to this. Shower me with them reviews, cause I really want to see some