As far as the eye could see, the sky stretched endlessly in a deep ocean-blue, as though the sea itself had risen and taken the place of heaven.
It was December.
No woolly clouds drifted overhead. Only the sharp winter wind moved through the empty sky.
Then, without warning, two steely-black aircraft tore across the heavens.
They looked like giant eagles in flight—wings spread wide, tails cutting through the air, beak-like noses aimed toward their prey. To anyone looking up from the ground, they might have seemed almost alive. That illusion was no accident. Bombers were built to deceive the eye.
Stealth was what made them one of humanity's greatest inventions.
And one of its most catastrophic.
It wasn't merely their ability to carry more than ten tons of weight that made them fearsome. No, their true terror lay in their monstrous speed—up to a thousand miles per hour—and their flawless control over destruction itself.
At six hundred and seventy miles per hour, the two bombers crossed the western horizon.
In a single blink, they vanished.
Their destination was a nation known as the Severa Empire, ruled by a merciless tyrant: Tsunehito Severa.
The world had long since split into two great powers—the Federal Democratic of East and the Severa Empire. Yet beneath all the politics, all the bloodshed, there was only one cause for the chaos: reunification.
A century ago, the world had been one.
And Vamara Severa, the first king who ignited war against the Federal Democratic of East, had wanted to make it one again—by force.
Thus began the Hundred-Year War.
Since that day, history had been written in blood.
But almost all of that blood belonged to the Severa Empire.
Within only two decades, two million imperial soldiers had died. As for the Federal Democratic of East, there had been no casualties.
Not one.
It was almost absurd when compared side by side. The Severa Empire boasted nearly a billion people, while the Federal Democratic of East numbered roughly the same.
And yet, it was the Federation that dominated the battlefield.
The reason was simple: the two nations belonged to entirely different ages.
In one land, artificial intelligence had transformed human life into something efficient, advanced, and almost unimaginable. In the other, superstition and outdated ways still ruled.
The Federal Democratic of East sent humanlike machines to war.
The Severa Empire sent men.
That alone guaranteed the Empire's losses would continue to rise.
Inside the bombers, the atmosphere was tense.
The cockpit was alive with noise—the hum of machinery, the clicking of instruments, the low, constant drone of engines slicing through the sky.
Then a voice crackled through the pilot's radio.
"Gentlemen. Are you prepared?"
It was loud, deep, and commanding.
The two pilots stiffened at once. The excitement on their faces vanished, replaced by something far heavier.
Dread.
Still, neither man broke.
They had trained for months for this operation—an operation no one else had wanted to carry out. They had known, from the start, that once they climbed into these machines, there would be no turning back.
The president himself, the man who had just spoken, held deep respect for the pilots and the soldiers waiting in the rear compartment. Anyone willing to shoulder a mission like this had already offered up a part of their soul.
"Indeed, sir!" the pilots shouted together. "We await your orders!"
The two bombers flew side by side, perfectly aligned, as if tied together by fate.
The radio went silent for a moment.
Then only white noise remained.
Had the signal failed?
No.
Headquarters was simply preparing the next order. The line had been muted from their side. And with both pilots gripping the controls, neither of them bothered turning the radio off.
Outside, the sky remained clear and beautiful.
The bombers flew straight ahead, cutting deeper into the endless blue while sunlight poured down over their wings. Far below, the land looked like a scattered mess of cramped houses and lifeless roads—an ugly patchwork of human existence.
Then the radio crackled again.
"Starting… one… two… three…"
A different voice followed.
"Mr. President, now is the time. We are ready."
A brief pause.
Then came the president's voice once more, calm and unwavering.
"My dear soldiers… I know you understand what we are about to do. Even so, I wish to say this clearly: we do this for the sake of a greater future. If humanity is ever to advance by leaps and bounds, then we must make this choice. Wars such as these have chained mankind since the dawn of history. Therefore, without further delay, I, together with the military leadership and executive council, have decided to release it. May God be with humanity. The countdown begins now."
He spoke without hesitation.
His voice was astonishingly clear—strong, controlled, and utterly free of visible emotion. It carried no trembling, no fear, no doubt.
Only resolve.
The effect on the soldiers was immediate.
In each bomber, six men raised their voices, some shouting to steel themselves, others staring in silence, their faces hard with determination. However each man reacted, one thing was clear—
they were ready.
Following orders, the bombers slowed and held position.
This was the drop point.
One of the pilots glanced out the window. Below him, all he could see was a cluster of filthy houses. A muddy orange river cut through the center of the settlement, its banks choked with waste.
They were flying twenty thousand feet above the ground.
For a moment, a thought passed through his mind.
What if we fall from here?
What if everything goes wrong?
What if history blames us for this?
He swallowed hard.
If they fell from this height, they would be flattened like tomatoes. That much was certain.
And to make matters worse, this was the first time they had ever piloted an aircraft this advanced.
Of course they were afraid.
But the president's speech had become a kind of fuel.
Fear still existed, but duty had risen above it.
They had to succeed.
"Yes, sir!"
Their reply came in perfect unison.
The radio clicked off once more.
Both pilots inhaled deeply, steadied their hearts, and brought their trembling hands to the red button set in the center of the controls.
Their part was nearly done.
All that remained was to keep the bomber steady and relay headquarters' instructions to the men in the rear.
Beyond the cockpit lay the rest of the aircraft, divided into three sections: cockpit, engine room, and storage room.
At the very back, inside the storage room, five soldiers stood beside an object nearly six meters tall and one meter wide.
It was draped in a pale scarlet cloth.
Even covered, it radiated a strange, oppressive presence.
No one spoke.
Then, all at once, the rear hatch opened.
A violent gust of freezing wind burst inside, sweeping away the trapped heat.
The open hatch revealed nothing but sky.
The soldiers tensed.
This was their first time, too.
None of them had imagined that in their twenties, they would stand at the edge of the heavens, preparing to kill hundreds—perhaps more.
Then the countdown began.
"Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one… zero… RELEASE!"
The voice boomed through the aircraft, amplified so harshly it sounded as if a hundred microphones had been layered together.
It wasn't the president's voice.
At zero, the five soldiers shoved the object forward with all their strength.
They didn't know what they were pushing.
Not truly.
Only later—when they saw the divine crimson light blooming beneath them—would they understand that it had been a nuclear bomb.
The bomb rolled forward on heavy wheels fixed beneath its body.
With a final roar, the soldiers gave one last push.
"HOOOOOO!"
And the bomb slipped over the edge.
Gravity took over.
It plunged toward the earth.
Its speed increased every second.
Soon, it would reach the ground.
Soon after that—
detonation.
Inside the cockpit, the mission was already considered complete.
There was nothing left for the bombers to do but escape.
Headquarters had warned them: remaining any longer would be suicide.
The pilots wasted no time.
They slammed the engines to full power and turned away, fleeing the drop zone at maximum speed.
Everything I had ever done in life revolved around research.
That was only natural.
I was a chemist.
And so, in a way, my life was no different from that of any ordinary man.
Or at least, that was what I liked to tell myself.
The reality was a little sadder.
I was forty years old, had spent nearly twenty years buried in experiments, and still had nothing you could call success in my personal life.
No wife.
No lover.
No grand romantic memories to look back on.
Ever since I graduated from college two decades earlier, my days had followed the same pattern.
Research.
Fail.
Try again.
Fail again.
Then come up with a new approach and start over.
Somehow, that repetitive cycle became my everyday life.
Still… I wasn't unhappy.
Compared to the years before I became a chemist, my life now was infinitely more interesting. It had purpose. Frustrating, lonely purpose, perhaps—but purpose nonetheless.
The problem was the world I lived in.
In this country, a peaceful life was a luxury. A balanced life was practically a myth. Unless you were someone powerful enough to sit above the rest—someone like the Pope or the king—you were forced to live according to rules that crawled into every part of your existence.
Even the smallest act had to conform to the king's will.
That was the kind of nation the Severa Empire had become.
People worshipped the king. They obeyed priests who preached nonsense with straight faces. If someone got sick, the answer was church. If someone was starving, the answer was church. Morning, noon, night—everything became church.
Faith itself wasn't the problem.
The problem was how it had been twisted into a leash.
Science, meanwhile, was treated like heresy.
To pursue it seriously in this empire was like searching for a single needle in an endless sea. People had been trained—no, brainwashed—to believe that anyone who devoted themselves to science was insane.
And people like me?
We were seen as dangerous lunatics.
That divide in thought was exactly why the world had split a century ago into the Severa Empire and the Federal Democratic of East.
Personally, I thought the split made sense.
The differences were too great.
The Federation was a place where ordinary people had power, where progress was embraced, where knowledge was allowed to grow. Compared to the Empire, it was as if one nation existed thousands of years ahead of the other.
The Severa Empire, on the other hand…
Well.
It was a rotten potato in a sack.
Even a century of history was enough to make it clear—the Severa Empire had never been something to admire.
Its growth wasn't built on unity or progress. It was carved forward through suffering, each step leaving behind bodies that no one bothered to count. The deeper you looked into its past, the heavier it felt… as if the land itself had absorbed all that blood and refused to let it go.
Growing up in a place like that…
Sigh!
Of course my life wasn't easy.
But I never stopped because of it.
Day after day, I walked through the same streets under the same eyes. Some looked away the moment I passed. Others lingered a little too long, whispering just loud enough to be heard. It should've bothered me.
At first, it did.
But over time… it faded.
Like a sound you hear too often, it eventually became background noise.
That was just how things were.
Anyway.
If I had to describe my life now, it would sound almost peaceful.
A chemist.
A quiet room filled with glass containers, faint chemical smells hanging in the air, notes scattered across the desk in messy layers. Days slipped by as I moved from one experiment to another, barely noticing when morning turned into night.
It wasn't a bad life.
Just… missing something.
Because no matter how busy I stayed, there were moments—small, quiet ones—when my mind wandered.
And it always landed on the same thought.
A beautiful wife.
…Yeah.
That again.
I leaned back slightly, rubbing my chin.
Hmmm.....
Tall. Over 170 cm. A hour glass figure. Long brown hair that caught the light just right…
And—
"…Tch."
I clicked my tongue.
Enough.
There was no need to keep going. The more I added, the more unrealistic it sounded.
For someone people avoided… that kind of dream felt almost laughable.
Still…
Did I actually need a girlfriend right now?
I paused for a moment, then shook my head.
No.
If I were younger, maybe I would've chased something like that. But now?
Research filled my time well enough. It kept my hands busy and my thoughts occupied.
And when the room fell silent—
I didn't feel uncomfortable.
I had long gotten used to that silence.
No one came to talk to me.
No one tried.
And honestly… I understood why.
If I saw someone like myself from the outside, I probably wouldn't approach either.
Even if the intention was good, it didn't change how it looked.
As for my parents…
there wasn't much to say.
I lost them when I was one year old.
Or at least—that was what I was told.
There were no memories to hold onto. No faint images, no lingering voices. When I tried to think about them, it felt like reaching into empty space.
Once, I asked the caretaker at the orphanage directly.
He didn't hesitate.
"You were found wandering the streets. Naked."
…
That was all.
No explanation. No follow-up.
Just a single sentence that ended the conversation before it even began.
Sometimes, though, the thought came back.
Not often.
Just… once in a while.
Would things have been different?
Birthdays. School. Graduation.
Moments that seemed ordinary for others—would they have felt different for me?
It wasn't regret.
The feeling didn't sink that deep.
But it stayed long enough to make me pause.
What did it feel like… to have parents?
Not the idea of them—
but the actual presence.
A hand on your head. A voice calling your name.
Something warm… something steady.
Something you didn't have to question.
I didn't know.
But when I turned ten—
I came close to understanding.
He appeared quietly in my life.
An old man, already past his prime, with wrinkles lining his face and a posture that leaned slightly forward, as if time itself had been pressing down on him.
His name was Nashval.
He didn't try to change me.
Didn't ask questions I couldn't answer.
Didn't look at me with doubt.
He simply gave me a place to stay.
I still remember: a table with warm food waiting; roof that didn't feel temporary.
Even the silence in that house felt… different.
It wasn't empty.
At first, I barely noticed it.
But slowly— the cold feeling I had carried for years began to fade. Like frost melting under sunlight, little by little, until I could barely remember how it used to feel.
For the first time— I had someone.
But.....
...time never stops.
No matter how much you get used to something… it keeps moving forward.
And people....
"Run… Otani… they're here!!" A shout tore through the quiet like something ripping apart.
I froze.
I was standing before my laboratory table all this time.
tik… tik…
The glass tube in my hand rattled lightly against the metal table before I slowly turned my head toward the door.
That voice…
Shimada. Whose voice it would be than him? Nobod...
"Hurry… up!!"
This time it sounded closer. Rough. Out of breath.
"Damn it…" I let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through my hair.
"I just wasted thirty minutes thinking about nothing…"
My chest felt tight. Not from age—no, not that—but from the sudden weight of reality crashing back in.
They found me.
My eyes snapped around the room—left, right—fast, searching. Papers scattered. Bottles. Notes. Broken sleep. Half-finished formulas.
Then—
The window.
Of course.
This place… hidden deep in the forest, wrapped in thick bamboo… no one should have found it. From above, it would look like nothing. Just another patch of green. Like a grain of sand in an endless desert.
And yet…
My hands started shaking.
Not a little—violently.
My fingers wouldn't listen. My breathing turned uneven.
"Get a grip…" I muttered, biting down hard. "Move."
I forced myself forward, grabbing my coat from the chair.
Then I grabbed the small chemical case from the table and tried to shove it into my outer pocket.
It didn't fit.
"Come on… come on—!"
I pulled it out and tried again—
My fingers slipped.
The box tilted—
"No—!"
THAM!
It hit the ground, shattering the box into millions of pieces.
The Liquid came out.
Silence.
For a moment, everything inside me went blank.
"…shit."
Fifteen years.
They were gone one in one second.
My throat tightened. My vision blurred. I wanted to scream, to drop to my knees, to gather every broken piece with my bare hands—
—but I didn't.
I couldn't.
"Forget it," I whispered, forcing my body to move.
"I can make it again… one year… just one year…"
I dashed towards east window, turning away from the mess I created.
Seriously! Whats wrong with me???
My mind still lingered with that broken mess on the floor.
I opened the windows instantly, and took a jump from it.
The cold air slammed into my face as I jumped out. My body dropped fast—
thud!
Pain shot up my legs, but I didn't stop.
Countless thoughts erupted. And once again, i went to from where I began.
No! Its not me. Its him!
Tsunehito Severa.
That name alone made my teeth grind.
The so-called king.
Short. Fat. Always smiling like a fool. A man who ruled a dying country like it was his personal playground. One hundred wives. Fifty more on the side.
While people starved.
While people disappeared.
While war drained everything we had left.
Because of him… this country rotted.
Because of him… I ran like a criminal.
"…bastard."
I clenched my fist.
I tried to fight back. I really did. Small movements. Quiet resistance. A spark in the dark.
But sparks die fast when you're alone.
And I was alone.
Or… I should've been.
Shimada.
A member of Imperial Red… yet somehow, he stood on my side.
Even now, he was the one warning me.
That thought pushed my feet even faster.
"Run!"
Leaves crunched under my feet as I pushed deeper into the forest. Branches scratched against my coat. My breath came out sharp and uneven.
I didn't look back.
I couldn't.
The moon hung above—bright like a diamond, cold, watching.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
That was all I could hear.
That… and my heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Damn it…" I muttered under my breath, running blindly.
"All I wanted was to fix this country…"
Why did it end like this?
What did I do wrong?
The air felt heavy. My lungs burned. I forced in a deep breath, but it wasn't enough.
My chest hurt.
Like something was pressing down on it.
It wasn't hard to understand why—I had been running nonstop for the past few minutes.
I was just a chemist.
Not a fighter. Not a runner.
I never trained. Never needed to.
My body was weak—fragile.
And now it showed.
Still—
I pushed forward. I wanted to live. I wanted to punch that bastard.
Faster.
Further.
Anywhere but here.
Then—
"GOTCHA!" A sudden voice burst out before me—sharp, excited.
My whole body locked up.
What—?!
My feet stopped on their own. My breath caught in my throat.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't even lift my head.
From the moment I started running, my eyes had been glued to the ground. I just kept staring at the path, at the dry leaves breaking under my steps; never once looking ahead.
I was afraid.
Afraid of what I might see if I did.
So I kept my head down.
And now—
That fear became my biggest mistake.
"No…"
My lips trembled.
"No, no—"
"CLICK." A sharp, metallic sound cut through the silence.
Cold.
Familiar.
My heart dropped.
A gun.
My eyes widened, but my head still wouldn't rise.
My body refused.
Like my body already knew—
My breath stopped completely.
For a split second, everything went still.
I tried to lift my head.
Just a little—
BAM!!
The world exploded.
A deafening blast tore through the night, so loud it felt like it split my skull open. My ears rang instantly—eeeeeeee—a sharp, endless noise that drowned out everything else.
The quiet forest shattered.
Birds burst out of the trees in panic, wings flapping wildly as they scattered into the dark sky.
My body jerked hard.
Then—
Pain.
A sudden, burning heat spread through my stomach.
"…ah…"
A weak, broken sound slipped from my lips as my body staggered forward.
For a second… just a second…
I thought—
Did he miss?
But no.
No… he didn't.
It hit.
I could feel it.
The warmth spreading, soaking through my clothes.
Blood.
And yet—
I was still standing.
Still alive.
My legs trembled beneath me, barely holding my weight.
"Run…" I whispered, my voice shaking, barely even a sound.
But my body didn't listen.
My legs wouldn't move.
They felt heavy… numb… like they didn't belong to me anymore.
Before I could even think—
BAM!!
The second shot came.
My vision shook.
My body gave in.
I dropped.
Hard.
Thud!
The ground slammed into me, knocking the air out of my lungs in one violent gasp.
"—ghh!"
I couldn't breathe.
My chest tightened as I struggled to pull in air, but it came out broken and uneven.
I tried to look ahead.
Tried to see—
But I couldn't.
My vision blurred too much.
All I could hear—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Steady.
Coming closer.
Each step pressing deeper into my ears, louder than the last.
Crunch… crunch…
"Agra-ga-ga… I caught him."
That voice—
It was filled with excitement.
With joy.
Like this was some kind of game to him.
My fingers twitched weakly against the ground. I tried to push myself up.
Nothing.
My body refused.
It wouldn't respond.
Heat spread across my stomach, growing warmer, wetter.
Blood kept flowing.
My vision flickered—tiny sparks of light dancing in front of my eyes. White, blue, red… all mixing together.
The moon above me…
It looked strange.
Red.
Too red.
"Ah…" My lips trembled, dry and cracked. "Why…?"
The word barely came out.
Still—
I forced myself.
"Why… did you kill me…?"
My voice sounded distant. Weak. Like it wasn't even mine.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
"Die, you scumbag."
Cold.
Empty.
My teeth clenched on their own—
crack.
A sharp pain shot through my jaw.
I didn't even notice until it was too late.
…bastard.
If I live—
If I somehow survive this—
But the thought broke halfway.
I couldn't hold onto it.
More footsteps echoed around me.
Not just one.
Many.
Too many.
Their voices mixed together, turning into noise I couldn't understand.
My hearing started fading.
Slowly.
Like the world was drifting away from me.
My throat burned.
Dry.
Painful.
Water…
I needed water…
My tongue felt stuck.
My lips wouldn't move properly.
The darkness around me began to close in.
Not all at once—
Slowly.
Gently.
Like something wrapping around me… pulling me deeper.
"…Shi…ma…da…"
Even his name wouldn't come out right.
My vision dimmed.
The lights faded.
My eyes slowly closed—
And just like that—
Everything disappeared.
…
Darkness.
Endless.
Silent.
I stood there.
No pain.
No sound.
No weight.
It didn't even feel like I had a body anymore.
Just… existence.
Alone in nothing.
Then—
A step.
I moved.
Ahead, far in the distance—
Something appeared.
A door.
Small.
Far away.
Its edges glowing faint white against the endless black.
I didn't question it.
I just walked.
One step at a time.
There was no ground beneath my feet.
Nothing at all.
And yet—
I didn't fall.
Each step landed on something invisible… something that held me up.
Time passed.
Or maybe it didn't.
It was impossible to tell.
The door didn't get any closer.
No matter how much I walked.
So—
I started running.
Faster.
Faster—
Still far.
Still out of reach.
"…what is this…"
My voice echoed faintly, swallowed by the void.
Then—
It moved.
The door.
It rushed toward me.
Fast.
Too fast.
In a single instant—
It stood right in front of me.
Blinding white light poured from its edges, so bright it hurt to look at.
My hand lifted slowly.
Without thinking.
Like something was guiding me.
"Click."
The sound echoed softly.
I pushed it open.
Light burst out—
Swallowing everything.
…
Warmth.
A soft breeze brushed against my face.
Gentle.
Real.
Pink petals drifted through the air, carried by the wind.
Sakura trees stretched all around, their branches swaying quietly.
A fountain stood nearby, water flowing down in a calm, steady rhythm.
shhh… shhh…
The sound filled the air.
Peaceful.
For the first time since all of this began—
My chest loosened.
The pain… faded.
My vision blurred again.
But this time—
Not from pain.
Tears.
They filled my eyes and slipped down quietly.
I didn't wipe them.
I couldn't.
Someone was there.
Ahead of me.
Sitting near the fountain.
Back turned toward me.
Old.
Still.
Familiar.
"…uncle…"
My voice broke.
It trembled, barely holding together.
My legs moved on their own.
Before I even realized—
I was running.
Faster.
Closer.
Tears falling freely now, one after another.
Toward the only family I had left.
.....
"Bastard… do you even understand what you've done? You murdered him!" A roar shattered the fragile silence of the forest.
At the center of it all stood a towering man whose very presence seemed to bend the air around him. His massive frame cast a long shadow over the others, his broad shoulders stretching the thick fabric of his outer vest. Muscles pressed tightly beneath it, each movement making the material strain as if it could tear at any moment.
He stood at an overwhelming height of 6'7", a figure that made even trained soldiers look small beside him. Strength radiated from him in a way that felt almost inhuman—like a beast barely holding itself together.
This man was the commander of the Imperial Red, Vervain.
And right now—
He had lost control, and at his feet lay Shimada.
WHAM!
Blood stained Shimada's mouth, dark red little blood of river running down his chin and soaking into the dirt beneath him. His body curled slightly with each impact, yet he made no effort to resist.
THUD!
Vervain's heavy boot slammed into his stomach.
"Damn you—!"
THUD!
"You useless bastard!!"
Each kick carried the weight of his rage, his frustration spilling out without restraint. His breathing was rough and uneven, more like a growl than that of a man. Veins bulged along his neck, and his clenched fists trembled with barely contained violence.
This was not just anger.
This was failure.
The mission was simple --- Capture Otani, and deliver him alive to the king.
That was all they had to do.
And yet—
Not far from where they stood, Otani's lifeless body lay on the cold ground.
Still.
Silent.
His clothes were soaked in dried, darkened blood, the wound in his stomach now clotted but unmistakable. The metallic scent of it lingered heavily in the air, mixing with the damp smell of earth and leaves.
It was suffocating.
Around him, twenty-four soldiers stood in a wide circle.
No one spoke.
No one dared to.
Their eyes were fixed on the body at the center, their expressions tight and strained. Some clenched their jaws, others lowered their heads slightly—but none of them broke formation.
Not a single cry echoed.
Not a single word of grief escaped.
Only one sound remained in the quiet forest—
THUD!
"BASTARD!!" Vervain's boot struck again.
Shimada did not fight back.
He did not shout.
He did not even flinch properly.
His face remained empty, hollow, as though whatever was inside him had already died. Both of his arms were raised weakly to shield his head, but there was no strength behind them.
It was as if he had already accepted his fate. Then—
A figure stepped forward.
Calm. Controlled.
He moved with purpose, slipping out of the circle without hesitation.
Reaching Vervain, he grabbed him firmly and pulled him back several steps.
"Captain… that is enough." His voice was steady. Too steady for a moment like this.
The man had a plain, almost expressionless face. Rectangular glasses rested neatly on his nose, and his ash-silver hair shifted slightly in the morning breeze.
This was Saver, the vice-commander of the Imperial Red.
"Let me go!" Vervain roared, struggling violently against his grip. "I will kill him right here!"
His voice cracked with fury, his eyes burning with something far deeper than simple rage.
"Vice-commander—this is an order! Release me!"
But Saver did not move.
His grip remained firm.
"No, Captain," he replied quietly. "What is done cannot be undone. Killing him will not change the outcome."
For a brief moment—
Everything stopped.
Vervain's stood still.
Slowly, he turned his head.
The look in his eyes—it was something Saver had never seen before.
A storm of emotions twisted together—rage, grief, helplessness.
Something broken.
Saver felt his heart tighten. A drop of sweat slid down his temple.
If Vervain decided to break free, there was nothing he could do.
No one in the entire nation could match this man's raw strength.
He was not just strong.
He was a monster on the battlefield.
Still… Saver did not step back.
He stood his ground, even opening his arms slightly as if to block him further.
The two remained like that for a few long seconds.
Then—
Vervain exhaled heavily.
"…tch."
The tension in his body loosened.
Saver slowly released him.
For a moment, it seemed like Vervain might lash out again.
But he didn't.
Instead, he turned away in silence and walked back toward the circle.
Each step felt heavy.
Final.
Saver remained where he stood, his body still tense, his mind racing. He could not move, not yet.
…
Time passed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
The long night stretched on without mercy.
And before anyone realized it—
Morning arrived.
Soft rays of sunlight began to filter through the dense trees, gently pushing away the darkness that had covered the forest. Birds returned to the branches, their quiet chirping filling the air. A cool breeze moved through the leaves, carrying the fresh scent of damp earth.
But none of it reached them.
The soldiers remained in the same positions.
The same circle.
Where they had been for hours.
Seven long hours.
No one spoke.
Their faces had grown dull, drained of all emotion. Their eyes were bloodshot, thin red veins spreading across them from endless crying. But now, no tears remained.
They had cried until there was nothing left.
Not a single tear remained.
Only dry, burning eyes—red and swollen—staring into empty space.
Some of them sat on scattered rocks, their bodies slumped forward. Their shoulders hung low, as if something heavy was pressing down on them from above. Their hands rested loosely on their knees, fingers twitching every now and then without purpose.
They weren't really looking at anything.
Their eyes were open—
But their minds were far away.
Others lay on the cold ground, completely drained. Their backs pressed against the earth, arms spread beside them, chests rising and falling slowly. Even breathing seemed like effort.
No one had the strength to speak.
No one had the will to move.
Even the forest felt distant.
The sound of birds, the soft wind through the leaves… it all felt like it belonged to another world.
Because deep down—
They all understood.
Nothing would change.
No matter how long they stayed here.
No matter how much they regretted it.
No matter how many times they replayed it in their heads.
One thought kept echoing in every mind.
If only we had been faster…
If they had arrived earlier…
If they had taken a different route…
If they had trusted their instincts sooner…
Would Otani still be alive?
Would things have turned out differently?
That single thought kept repeating, over and over, digging deeper each time. It wasn't just regret anymore—
It was guilt.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
And then—
Another thought followed.
Darker.
More terrifying.
What happens when we return?
That question alone made their bodies stiffen.
Some clenched their fists.
Others shut their eyes tightly, as if trying to escape the images forming in their minds.
Because they already knew the answer.
Failure meant death.
Not just for them—
But for their families as well.
And that was where the real fear began.
Their mothers… who waited for them every night.
Their wives… who believed they would come back.
Their daughters… who still smiled, unaware of the world they lived in.
If they returned as failures—
Those people would suffer.
Not quietly.
Not mercifully.
They would be dragged out in public.
Humiliated.
Stripped of their dignity in front of crowds.
Turned into something less than human.
A source of entertainment.
A punishment meant to send a message.
The king didn't just punish the guilty—
He destroyed everything connected to them.
That was the kind of man he was.
And every single soldier here knew it.
Their hands trembled.
Their breathing became uneven.
Some bit their lips hard enough to draw blood, trying to stop their thoughts from going further.
Because imagining it—
Was already too much.
They could accept their own deaths.
They had prepared for that the moment they became soldiers.
But this…?
Watching their families suffer because of them—
That was something they could never accept.
And the worst part—
They knew it would happen.
Not maybe.
Not possibly.
Certainly.
"…maybe it would be better…" one soldier whispered, his voice dry and hollow, barely more than a breath, "…if we end it ourselves."
The words were weak.
But they carried weight.
They lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.
No one answered.
But no one rejected it either.
Because each of them…
Had already reached that same conclusion in their hearts.
If they died here—
At least their families might be spared.
At least they wouldn't have to witness that horror.
Imperial Red was not just a squad.
It was a family.
For ten long years, twenty-five people had lived together, trained together, fought side by side in countless battles. They had bled together, laughed together, survived things no one else could understand.
They knew each other's habits.
Each other's fears.
Each other's dreams.
They weren't just comrades.
They were brothers.
And now—
That family stood at the edge of collapse.
Vervain lay face down on the ground, completely still.
Right beneath him was a small mound of freshly turned earth.
That was where they had buried Otani.
Even after everything—
Even after failure—
They couldn't just leave him like that.
Even if the world called them monsters…
Even if their hands were stained with blood…
They still held onto something.
A small piece of humanity.
A sense of respect for the dead.
So they buried him.
Carefully.
Quietly.
A shallow grave, made with their own hands.
No tools.
Just dirt, nails, and silence.
Each handful of soil they placed over his body felt heavier than the last.
As if they were burying more than just a man.
When it was done—
They placed a few white flowers on top.
Simple.
Fragile.
Pure.
A silent apology.
For failing him.
For being too late.
For everything.
"It is not possible…" Vervain's voice came out low and strained. "If we do not return… our families will—"
He stopped.
His throat tightened.
He looked up at the sky instead.
He could not finish the sentence.
Because he knew.
Then—
"…huh?"
Vervain narrowed his eyes. Something caught his attention. High above, in the sky— A small black shape. At first, he dismissed it. Perhaps it was just his vision playing tricks on him after a sleepless night. But something about it felt wrong.
"What is that…?" he muttered. "Am I imagining things?"
At his words, the others looked up. If Vervain spoke, it was never without reason.
They followed his gaze.
And then they saw it.
A black object falling from the sky.
Fast.
Far too fast.
And beside it—
Two aircraft.
"That… is the enemy," Saver said quietly.
Then—
He paused.
Because something was wrong.
He looked at Vervain.
The man was smiling.
Tears streamed down his face.
Saver's eyes widened.
He understood instantly.
Slowly, he turned to the others.
One by one—
They were smiling too.
Despite everything.
"…you all…" Saver lowered his head, his chest tightening painfully.
His own tears began to fall again.
Vervain pushed himself up and stood.
"…listen," he said, his voice calmer now, though still heavy. "This may be our final moment. If any of you wish to run… you still have time."
No one moved.
Not a single step.
"…I see," he said softly. A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I hope… wherever you go… you find peace." He let out a quiet breath.
"I do not think I will be welcomed there."
A few quiet chuckles spread among them.
"I have done too many unforgivable things." His voice softened even more. "…and if I was ever too harsh… I apologize."
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
"Don't say that, Captain." A soldier stepped forward.
"We are alive because of you." Another voice followed.
"We respect you."
More voices joined.
"We owe you everything."
Vervain froze. His eyes trembled.
These words—
From them—
After everything he had done…
He had never expected to hear them.
Not even once.
Slowly, he looked at each of them.
Tears filled his eyes.
One by one—
They raised their hands.
And saluted him.
For the last time.
"You all…" his voice broke. But before he could say anything more—
It came.
A sudden surge of energy.
Blinding.
Red.
Like a second sun descending upon the forest.
The moment it appeared—
Everything vanished.
The trees.
The ground.
The air itself.
Even sound disappeared.
The light swallowed everything.
For a moment—no sound. No wind. No breath.
Just… white.
Then—
CRACK.
The ground split open like dry glass. Trees bent and snapped as the red light tore through the forest. Leaves burned mid-air, turning into black dust before they could even fall.
BOOOOOM—
The shockwave came after.
It slammed into everything, flattening the forest in a wide circle. Dirt lifted into the air. Stones shattered. The place where the Imperial Reds stood… was gone.
Only silence remained.
Ash floated slowly down.
The smell of burnt wood filled the air.
A deep crater now sat where the forest once stood. No bodies. No armor. No weapons.
Nothing.
All twenty-five members of the Imperial Red—
Disappeared without a trace.