Backstory
Mikhail was not born into crime. He chose it. Raised in a wealthy merchant family in the empire’s outer territories, he had everything: education, privilege, and connections. But business was never enough for him. He found trade dull unless it involved control—control over people, control over lives.
After a financial scandal ruined his family name, Mikhail disappeared into the underworld. He re-emerged years later as one of the key figures in Mere’s criminal ecosystem. He aligned himself with The Black Axes, a brutal mercenary syndicate, and took control of the Main Town Square, the beating heart of Mere’s black market. His trade was flesh. Whether it was organs for illegal transplants, slaves for labor or pleasure, or rare species for collectors, Mikhail ensured that supply met demand.
His cruelty was not driven by passion but by cold, transactional efficiency. He did not relish the suffering. He simply saw it as a cost of doing business.
Mere’s Influence
With Daveed’s strength coursing through him, Mikhail felt invincible. It was more than muscle. It was command. It was fire that demanded loyalty and magic that bent the world to his will. In the early days, he believed it was a gift. Mere needed someone strong, someone who would not flinch, someone who could protect what remained after The Red Raids.
He convinced himself that his violence had purpose, that fear was a form of protection, and that the pain he inflicted was a small price for the safety he could guarantee. For a time, the people believed it too. He ended threats before they reached the city walls and stamped out chaos before it bloomed. But strength like Daveed’s was never meant to be wielded by a single man.
Now, Mikhail burns from the inside out. The power that once felt like a gift lashes out in his sleep, shattering rooms and scarring those too close. He sees enemies where there are none. He trusts no one, not even his own men. The more he tries to control it, the more the strength demands to be unleashed. He hungers for war, for carnage, for something to break that might quiet the fire.
In that hunger, he has carved a path of ruin. What began as protection has turned into conquest. What began as mercy has become slaughter. He does not know whether it is his paranoia or Daveed’s need for domination that drives him, but he no longer cares. He has stopped questioning it.
Mikhail once cleared the wilds so others could live. Now he clears the living from the land so that no one can challenge him. Daveed’s strength is still inside him, but it no longer answers to Mikhail. It owns him.
His Ending
Mikhail burned bright, but not from passion. From pressure. From power.
He was never the kind to lose control in a fit of rage. His fire was colder than that. Measured, efficient, deliberate. That is what made it so dangerous. He was not cruel because he enjoyed it. He was cruel because it worked.
When the group reached his stronghold, they knew this would not be like Veronica. There was no plea to hear and no memory of kindness to cling to. Deep down, they understood that Mikhail was not someone they could forgive. He was someone they had to stop.
The fight was inevitable.
He sat on the golden throne at the heart of Mere’s hollow empire, dressed in power like armor, daring them to challenge what he had built. He still believed he was the last line of defense. He thought the city needed him even if it hated him. Fear kept people alive.
Tarvo did not hesitate. One arrow struck straight through Mikhail’s chest. The force drove him back, pinning him to the seat he had refused to abandon. He died the way he lived, gripping power and refusing to let go.
Even in death, he left a mark.
The curse he had carried, the one gifted by Daveed, the one that turned fear into fuel, did not die with him. Kerrick stepped forward, not to redeem Mikhail, but to bear what he could not. To keep others safe from what was still too dangerous to leave unbound.
He had not just lost his way. He had let the fire hollow him until there was nothing left but the monster.
By the time they faced him, there was no man left to save.