Long before Death existed, long before the Seven Sins were given names, there was a tribe that lived under the shadow of the first man — Adam. They called themselves The Children of the Apple.
To the world, they looked joyful. They laughed. They sang. They danced around great fires beneath the night sky. But inside, the tribe was cruel. Their happiness was built on fear — and even their children were used as tools to hunt and capture others.
Among those children was a quiet boy with tired eyes.
But he was different.
His mother saw the darkness in the tribe and could no longer bear it. One night, under the pale moonlight, she took her son's hand and ran — far from the fires, far from the chants, far from the tribe's wicked leader:
the boy's own father.
The leader chased them through the wild lands.
The mother pleaded, begged, and fought to protect her son.
In the end, she fell — but the father left the child alive, believing the wild would finish what he would not.
Silence filled the world around the boy.
For the first time in his life, he was alone.
He stood beside the place where his mother had fallen, the wind brushing his face. Until that day, he had never spoken — not a word, not a whisper.
But now, he finally did.
With a tiny, shaking voice, he said:
"Thank you, Mother…
I won't waste your life."
And then…
He smiled.
Not out of joy.
But out of a promise.
A promise that one day, the world would remember him.
And fear the name:
Greed.