The world was falling apart.
The fate of humanity was hanging by a thread, and all of existence was being consumed by war.
And yet, Sunny felt at peace.
It was strange and borderline immoral, but he was content and happy. He was happier than he had ever been before, even.
Objectively, his life had become a never-ending nightmare. All seven of his incarnations were constantly engaged in bloody battles, and more often than not, he returned from the battlefield battered and broken.
Worse than the violence and the pain of having his body ravaged and torn was the crushing weight of responsibility that pressed down on his shoulders. Humanity was facing extinction, and Sunny was responsible for humanity — his failures cost countless lives, and his victories were never swift and decisive enough to make him feel like he couldn't have done better.
