The night wind cut like a thin blade, carrying a heavy fog that cloaked the streets leading to the Milverton estate.
A man walked alone through the shadows of the old buildings. His coat billowed softly. His gloved hand clutched a folded letter.
Jack.
He opened the paper again, though he had memorized every curve of its ink.
"Come to the Milverton estate on the night of the new moon. A final gift awaits you."
There was no signature. But Jack knew.
He knew it came from the one who had given him life... and blood.
Charles.
---
Inside the grand drawing room of the Milverton manor, every lantern had been extinguished. Only a single candle burned atop a round table carved with a winged lion.
Charles stood beside it. His face was calm. His eyes, serene... and hollow.
Vespera stood behind a pillar, watching in silence.
"So... you really are going to kill him," she murmured.
Charles didn't answer. He stared out the window. In the distance, Jack's footsteps approached.
"He was just a rabid dog you unleashed…" Vespera continued, her voice low. "...and now you're putting him down like he was nothing."
Charles closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Then answered coldly:
"A dog that bites too deep… must be buried."
Vespera exhaled, long and slow. For the first time… she shivered.
"…You're even more of a bastard than the Devil, Charles."
---
The front door creaked open.
Jack stepped into the manor. The hinges groaned like the lid of a coffin.
He walked forward, his eyes scanning the dark room warily.
"My Lord?" he called, his voice rough.
Footsteps echoed.
From the shadowed stairway, Charles descended.
A white coat. Black gloves. Eyes as black as the abyss.
"Hello, Jack."
Jack smirked.
"So this is your house, huh? Pretty grand for a man behind so many deaths."
Charles offered a faint smile.
"Thank you for your service, Jack."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You sound like a man saying goodbye."
Charles nodded gently.
"Yes. We part ways here."
Clank.
The floor beneath Jack suddenly shifted. Metal traps snapped up from below, trying to seize him—but Jack leapt aside just in time.
Knives shot out from the walls.
He rolled, drawing a blade from inside his sleeve.
"My Lord… is this the farewell you had in mind?"
Charles descended the steps, one by one.
"The Queen asked me to erase Jack the Ripper from history."
Jack let out a bitter laugh.
"And you obeyed? After everything I did for you?"
Charles only shrugged.
"You were useful. But not anymore."
---
The battle erupted in a flash.
Jack lunged first, his knife dancing like lightning.
Charles moved like a shadow, drawing a sword cane from beneath his coat.
Steel clashed against steel, echoing through the vast room.
Jack fought like a beast.
Charles fought like an executioner.
Cold.
Precise.
Deadly.
Jack was pushed back. Blood seeped from three wounds on his body.
"I killed for justice…" he hissed. "I killed because you told me to…"
Charles drove his blade into Jack's shoulder.
"Justice needs no name. Only results."
Jack fell to his knees. His breath came in ragged gasps. His eyes turned red.
Still… he laughed.
"You… monster…"
Charles approached. His gaze was void of light.
"You're wrong, Jack."
He leaned in and whispered:
"I'm just a man… who crawled out of hell."
And with one swift motion—
Charles severed Jack's head.
It hit the floor with a dull thud. The eyes still wide open.
His mouth still seemed to hum a final tune:
"London Bridge… is falling down…"
---
Vespera stepped out from the shadows.
Her eyes were dark. Her hands trembled slightly.
"You really did it."
Charles wiped his blade with a handkerchief.
"It was time…"
He stared at Jack's lifeless body.
"…one piece is replaced by another."
Vespera looked at Charles like she was staring at a catastrophe.
Inside, she whispered:
"He is no longer a man. Nor a demon. He is something… that should never have been born."
Outside, the fog began to descend again.
And for the first time, Charles Milverton killed with his own hands.
While a new history… was written in blood.
---