The sky above the Aurelthia Empire… burned red.
Not the red of dusk.
But the kind of red that lingers after something has burned for far too long
until even the heavens themselves begin to give up.
The capital, Aurel… had fallen, Leaving the palace still standing majestically.
The grand structures that once symbolized civilization were now nothing but charred ruins. Streets were split open with deep fractures, and between them—
bodies.
Scattered.
Broken.
Unrecognizable.
There was no distinction anymore.
Nobles. Commoners. Soldiers. Children.
All the same.
All… dead.
At the center of that ruin—
stood a man.
His white hair was disheveled, stained faintly with blood that wasn't even his own. His body remained upright, yet the aura around him was unstable—fine cracks in space itself flickering in and out, as if the world rejected his very existence.
His eyes—
red.
Sharp… yet hollow.
He looked around.
And for a moment—
his hand rose… covering part of his face.
His breathing was uneven.
"…What… is this…?"
The voice was quiet.
As if even he wasn't certain he had truly spoken.
He took a step forward.
Something soft gave way beneath his foot.
He didn't need to look.
But he did.
A child.
The small body… no longer whole.
He froze—then instinctively stepped back.
His eyes trembled.
His hand tightened into his own white hair, gripping hard—
as if trying to rip something out from inside his head.
"Why…?"
His breathing grew erratic.
"Why did it turn out like this…?"
Fragments.
Broken.
Incomplete.
Refugee camps.
Worn-out tents.
Faint laughter forced through hunger.
And—
fire.
Screams.
Blood.
Small bodies that never had the chance to run.
He and the others… could only hide.
Powerless.
Meaningless.
The fragments shattered.
His eyes opened again.
Sharper.
Colder.
"…They were treated like dogs…"
His voice dropped.
Barely a whisper.
"All of this… just because they were born in the wrong place…"
His teeth clenched.
His hand still gripping his hair.
"I… did this because I had to."
His tone shifted.
More firm.
As if trying to convince something—
or someone.
"So there would be no more variables…
so nothing could stand in the way anymore."
But—
the sentence hung.
Unfinished.
His eyes trembled.
"…What did I miss…?"
No answer came.
Another flash—
Sharper.
Crueler.
A man he once respected—
crushed beyond recognition.
Students… who once stood beside him
reduced to formless flesh.
Comrades—
killed by his own hands.
Two figures—
his sisters.
Blood.
Silence.
Void.
His steps faltered.
For the first time—
he lost balance.
His body staggered… then collapsed, sitting amidst rubble and blood.
He stared at his hands.
They weren't shaking.
That made it worse.
"…I…"
Above him, the sky fractured further.
Large-scale magic still clashed in the distance, waves of energy shaking what little remained of the city.
But in the middle of it all—
he simply sat there.
Motionless.
He slowly closed his eyes.
"I did this… for love revenge."
Calm.
Too calm.
"I killed anyone who stood in my way."
A brief pause in his breath.
"And they… followed me."
A hollow whisper.
"Straight into hell."
Silence.
Then—
that question returned.
Softer.
Deeper.
"…If this is my fault…"
His eyes opened slightly.
"…why does it feel like… something is missing?"
Not regret.
Not doubt.
Something subtler.
More unsettling.
He suddenly shouted—
"On what grounds?!"
Silence answered.
Crows scattered into the sky, tearing through the stillness.
Something was wrong.
Like a piece of the story… had been erased.
His voice fell to a whisper.
"…What… did I truly overlook…?"