Every story has an origin.

It’s the first page in a book that hasn’t been written yet — the spark, the beginning, the moment where everything changes.

For some, it’s love. For others, it’s tragedy. But for people like you and me, Night… it’s pain. It’s loss. It’s fire.

Yours began in the Red Light District.

An explosion. Fire raining from the sky. Screams. Smoke. And when it cleared — when the world stopped shaking — your mother was gone. That was the day your origin began, wasn’t it? The day the man you were burned away, and what was left was The Night.

You call it vengeance. You call it justice. You tell yourself you’re chasing the people responsible. But I’ve been there. I know what it really is.

It’s not justice. It’s grief that’s learned how to walk.

You think I don’t understand? You think I can’t see myself in you?

I was a scientist once. A man of reason. Of compassion, even. But I was betrayed. Mocked. Broken. And in that darkness, I found something intoxicating — purpose through destruction. I became the villain because it was easier to burn the world than to live in it.

That was my origin.

And do you know what it cost me?

Everything.

My mind. My morality. My humanity.

You tell yourself you’re different, but you’re not. Not yet. You’re standing at the same crossroads I once stood at. One road leads deeper into the dark — down to the pit, to obsession, to vengeance, to the endless, hollow hunger that no amount of retribution will ever fill. The other road? It leads to something harder. Something brighter. It leads to dawn.

You call yourself The Night. You wear it like armor. You live in it. You breathe it. But here’s the truth that no one ever told you — the night isn’t forever. It was never meant to be. The night exists so that the dawn can come. The darkness only matters because of the light that follows.

You can keep being what you are. A shadow chasing ghosts. A man defined by his tragedy. You can keep pretending that vengeance will bring her back, that if you hurt enough people, if you punish enough monsters, the pain will stop. But it won’t.

Because pain doesn’t disappear when you spread it — it multiplies.

You can become me.

Or… you can become something better.

You can become the dawn.

The moment you step into our fight, you’ll be standing face to face with your future — the man you could become if you let the darkness win. Look at me, Night. Look at what vengeance made of me. Look at what losing humanity costs.

This is your origin, Night. Your real one. Not the explosion. Not the fire. This. Whatever this is.. This is where you decide what you truly are.

Will you be The Night — endless, cold, devouring — or will you become the dawn that ends it?

Because only one of us is walking out of that fight as champion.

And if you choose the darkness…

Then I’ll do what must be done.

And end your story before it begins.