The sky wept ash.
Rain never came. Only silence — the kind that lingers before history shatters.
Above, the clouds writhed like an open wound. Lightning flared, white and voiceless, stripped of the thunder that should have answered.The earth was a graveyard of kingdoms. Desolation crawled across the land until even the mountains bowed beneath its weight.
This was Yurelda — once the crown of the world, now its tomb.Ash clung to the air like grief refusing to fade. Blood traced the stones, seeping into cracks where names had long been forgotten.The wind carried it all — ash, iron, memory — twisting the scent of death into something almost sacred.
And amid that ruin, Kazuo stood.
His sword hung heavy in his grasp, its edge fractured but unyielding. His breath misted against the dying wind. Around him, the world burned without flame — a kingdom turned to dust, a sky that had forgotten how to rain.
Opposite him, a lone figure waited in the smoke.
The voice that followed was quiet — too calm for the storm.
"Your existence itself is the fracture that shattered the Crown's order — a symbol to the rebels, a threat to us, and perhaps, in our leader's eyes… a possibility."
Kazuo said nothing. The storm whispered through the ruins, tugging at the torn edge of his jacket.
"And still, you cling to that fragile dream of peace, even as the world bleeds and cries for change — a peace never meant for men like you, for this is reality, and reality owes you nothing."
Lightning split the sky, throwing their faces into brief, violent light — two warriors shaped by the same world, doomed by different truths.
The figure took a slow step forward. His tone softened, weighted with memory.
"You asked me once what I would have done — if the day came when my people stood on the edge of extinction."
The wind howled through the hollowed streets.
"Now you have your answer."
He raised his blade, eyes reflecting the storm.
"Should my people fall, surely I will do the same. For when desolation comes upon the sky, the only meaning left in life... is to stand until the end."
Ash drifted between them like dying snow. The ground trembled. The sky seemed to bend.
Then Kazuo spoke — his voice low, unshaken.
"I will never stand the sentinel of this dying land. If Yurelda must fall, then let it fall — but not through silence."
Their eyes met — one defiant, one resigned. The air between them shivered with the weight of everything unsaid.
The nameless warrior's voice cut through the wind.
"Then tell me…"
Kazuo lifted his sword.
"What is the meaning of life?"
And as the final light bled through the clouds, the world itself held its breath —for the last battle had begun.