A place called Voicilies in the Eighth Continent....
It was raining hard.
Thunder echoed in the sky.
CRACK… CRACK…
In an open field, surrounded by the embrace of a deep, ancient forest, a young man stood alone. He was panting, his chest rising and falling in ragged heaves.
Pant… pant….
His black hair was long and messy, covering his tired eyes. His clothes were torn and bloody. His body was strong, but every breath he took looked like a struggle.
He looked up at the sky with a tired face.
Across from him, an old man floated in the air, stroking his beard.
"Heir of Death," the old man mused,. "So that's what they call you. Now I understand why he chose you."
The old man had a long, clean beard. He looked proud and calm.
Behind him, the sky had turned completely dark. It looked like the sun had been swallowed. That was the young man's power...darkness.
"…Huff… huff… Is picking on young people fun for old men now?" the young man said with a bitter smile.
"Hohoho. Bold words for a mere demigod. You bark like a god, but bleed like a man… boy"
"…."
"You've shown me all you had… and it was pitiful. Crawl back into the dirt where you belong… die you villain."
"Villain..huh...I was never a villain. I was the mirror you shattered when you hated what you saw."
"...."
"I was the mirror everyone avoided, reflecting the truths they tucked behind polite smiles,you hypocrite bastards "
As soon as The young man's words ended. he rain changed.it wasn't clear anymore. it had turned red—like blood. Everything was soaked in it.
The old man held out his hand. The dark sky began to spin and shrink into his palm.
The young man's eyes widened
'He absorbed my Darkness !!'
The young man dropped to one knee. The ground around him cracked.
CRACK… CRACK…
"Funny how the mirror calls itself innocent while slicing everyone who dares to look—dressing up cruelty as honesty and calling it reflection."
the old man spoke, his lips curving toward his ear as a smile, laced with malice, spread across his face.
The floor trembled beneath the young man's feet, cracks spreading wide as if the very ground were splitting open.
Then, with a deafening roar, molten lava surged forth, its hiss and crackle filling the air...a searing wave of heat and fury.
It splattered and sizzled as it poured over the broken earth, the sound of its fury drowning all other noise, like the voice of the planet itself screaming in agony.
The sky was Crimson red .
-Is this how it ends? After all I've endured?
He lowered his gaze, his eyes shutting softly.
Fear did not grip him.
Only weariness.
Weary of fleeing.
Weary of the endless battles.
Weary of solitude.
This was the final chapter.
The long road had brought him here, to this forsaken place.
But his tale did not begin in the shadows of this moment.
No. It began years ago—
On a day shrouded in peace, before destiny ever whispered his name.
*****