suffocating sword feared even to touch the shadow of its own self. He dared not sit beside his king, preferring instead to remain at the rear, watching with unblinking eyes.
His gaze shifted to the young girl distributing food to the poor, despite the crowd pressing around her like hungry wolves. Yet she didn't falter, handing out portions with a firm hand, as if she were dispensing justice itself among the starving.
Then he looked at his master... Korgami. That boy whose violet eyes shone with a painful longing, as if they wanted to weep, but tears no longer existed in his world...
Ragnar sighed inwardly: *"I know he wants to approach her... but he cannot."*
If someone asked, "Why?" the answer would be simple and cruel: *"Because anyone Korgami feels affection for and remains near him... will die."*
That was the curse... the unforgivable sin. Ragnar had told him everything during those days when Korgami was imprisoned in the hellish cell, even as his mortal body crumbled under the weight of a power no human could bear.
Some might ask why Ragnar doesn't intervene? Why not put a stop to Korgami's actions, or eliminate that girl who represents a fatal weakness for his king?
He cannot do anything without direct orders from Korgami, except if his master is in danger—then he would rush in and fight for his lord...
Moreover, Ragnar himself knew well he was no longer human. He was merely a shadow's consciousness... the remnants of a will bound within a sword's body. He no longer understood human emotions, nor did he wish to. He had no need for sentiment; his sole function now was to protect his king, even if that king had lost himself.
That's why he didn't interfere with his lady's decisions or her attachment to that human...
He shifted his gaze downward again, where the girl was still distributing food... The poor tried to push past her, but she stopped them once more with gentle strength...
He saw that smile on her small lips; she seemed so happy...
But Ragnar felt nothing, even though he knew her fate. He would do nothing to stop it, unless Korgami willed it.
Then he turned his gaze back to his master...
His cloak writhed as if trying to escape him, but he remained still, his eyes fixed on the ground, as if trying to suppress something within him on the verge of explosion.
Korgami was thinking to himself: *"I came only to see her... to see my sister, before I leave for the Continent of Beasts."*
But she didn't know he was still alive... He had seen her, but hadn't spoken a single word to her.
And she had no need to know, because he would leave this world... before she could learn he still lived. Why?
Because this was the fate of the Dark King...
Not like the fate of heroes blessed by destiny's protection—those for whom miracles fall into their hands as if the universe itself paves their way. No, the Dark King needs no pity from heaven... nor protection from invisible threads.
Because he was never weak enough to let his fate be written by another's hand.
For when destiny moved to protect the heroes...
It did so out of fear of one thing:
The Dark King.
When he was the pure embodiment of power—incomparable, unrestrained—he fought battles against King-Rulers, against entities said to be "undefeatable."
He destroyed countless universes,
To the point that merely uttering his name in some worlds instilled terror in hearts,
Terror... not of death,
But of meeting *him*.
And at his right hand,
Ragnar.
That soldier who never retreated, never hesitated, never asked "why."
He fought beside his king in battles described as genocidal wars,
Fights that lasted years without rest,
Where time itself bent for them to shorten the suffering.
So if the name "Dark King" held meaning...
Then Ragnar was the embodiment of the meaning of the loyal soldier.
Who does not betray.
Does not doubt.
And does not die... except standing.
---
Suddenly, Korgami stood atop the massive city wall, the city split before his eyes into two worlds.
Behind him lay everything symbolizing wealth: luxurious buildings, giant corporations, glittering palaces, and factories that never slept. Before him... ruin manifested itself.
Houses built of straw barely withstanding the wind, others of crumbling concrete on the verge of collapse. Streets filled with piled garbage, foul smells permeating the air, and the traces of rats visible in every corner, as if this land had been forgotten by the gods.
Korgami couldn't help but feel pity. Not just for the place, but for the memories buried within it.
Because, simply put, he had lived here once.
At one edge of these wretched neighborhoods, there stood a slightly different house, still in decent condition. It seemed to have been the shelter of a middle-class family… perhaps the last bastion of hope before poverty swallowed it.
His eyes suddenly flashed, and memories rushed toward him as if time itself had decided to stop. He saw himself at eight years old, running down this same street, laughing… and his little sister, Amicia, panting behind him, trying to catch up.
But she didn't notice the stone in her path… she stumbled and fell.
She tried to get up, but felt a sharp pain in her ankle. She was too young to bear it, and began to cry, calling her brother's name repeatedly, her voice not reaching him.
Korgami was engrossed in his race, running as if winning was more important than anything. When he turned to laugh at her… he saw nothing but the dust rising behind him.
He called her name, but got no reply. He rushed back, his eyes searching for her anxiously.
When he found her… she was unconscious.
He screamed:
"Amicia!"
And knelt beside her, trying to wake her with all the fear and love he possessed.
He shook her gently, then more forcefully, but she didn't respond. She lay silently, as if lost in a distant dream that didn't want to end.
"Wake up, please!"
He screamed, shaking her again, trying to bring her back… to rewind the moment.
But suddenly…
A strange energy gathered in the air, as if summoned from another dimension. It swirled around her body, then surged into her all at once!
Her body lifted off the ground, carried by that energy, his eyes widening in shock.
Korgami reached out his hand, tried to grab her, to stop her from rising… but everything was stronger than him.
He failed.
And before his eyes, the bruises and the wound on her ankle began to heal as if nothing had happened, as if the pain itself had vanished.
But she didn't open her eyes… she remained unconscious.
Korgami froze in place, his heart racing, his breath catching…
While his violet eyes shone with terror.
*"My sister... is not ordinary."*
Then she descended gently once more; that energy had been trying to protect her...
Korgami quickly approached his sister... He saw her lips move... as if trying to say something... He put his right ear close to her small mouth...
"I want... water..."
The words came out in a faint whisper, barely audible, from between Amicia's trembling lips.
Korgami crouched, his eyes filled with fear, then carried her on his back and headed toward their home.
Their house had two floors, built of crumbling concrete, its gray walls still retaining some solidity, though everything inside seemed to have endured ages of hardship.
The furniture was old, worn out, most pieces gathered from here and there… recycling was their philosophy for survival.
Small cracks in the walls allowed rays of sunlight to seep inside, casting warm threads onto the earthen floor.
As for his father and mother, they weren't home. They were out, working hard to earn their living in a merciless world.
Korgami paid no heed to anything else. He ran straight to his room on the second floor. He hurriedly opened his old closet and took out a bottle of water.
Clean water in the poor neighborhoods… was a miracle. No wells, no pipes, no nearby sources.
But his parents had managed, miraculously, to bring two bottles of potable water... a rare gift for their birthday, which had been just the day before.
This bottle was his share... Amicia's share had run out that morning.
He hesitated, looked at the bottle as a poor man looks at his only treasure… then turned to where Amicia lay on his back, her closed eyes barely able to muster a cry.
The hesitation vanished completely.
He laid her down gently, cleaned the floor thoroughly, then brought a piece of cloth and placed it carefully before resting his sister's head on it.
Amicia was four years old, her childish beauty shining despite the weariness on her face. Small lashes framed her green eyes, short hair falling over her forehead. Her red cheeks, despite their pallor, still held her charming innocence.
"Click..."
A faint sound came from the bottle cap.
He carefully opened her small mouth and began pouring water slowly… just a drop, then another… He didn't want to choke her, he just wanted her to be quenched.
She looked at him with half-open eyes… whispered:
"Thank you... Koro..."
He smiled a small smile, but quickly stifled it. It wasn't time for smiling.
... It was time for life...