In a distant realm far removed from mortal understanding, the night sky shimmered with countless stars. Yet these were no ordinary celestial bodies—they pulsed with an ancient, living energy. Their glow was not just light but emotion, memory, and power. Each star seemed to hum softly, as if whispering forgotten truths to the universe. Even if a trillion ordinary suns were gathered and ignited at once, their combined radiance would still be nothing more than a dying ember compared to the luminous wonders suspended above this realm.
Beneath this cosmic tapestry stood a colossal palace—massive and awe-inspiring, carved from mineral and metal unknown to any world. Its towering spires pierced the heavens, and its foundation spread across the land like the roots of a divine titan. Even the grandest of planets, with their sprawling continents and roaring oceans, would seem insignificant before such a structure—no more than a grain of sand before an endless mountain.
The palace rested under a deep, velvet silence. Shadows draped its walls, and the moonlight pooled faintly in the cracks between ancient stones. Even in darkness, the architecture carried a presence—an air of forgotten royalty, ancient wars, and unspoken vows.
At first glance, it seemed still and lifeless. But anyone watching closely would notice subtle movements in the outer courtyards—guards shifting positions, quiet patrols slipping across the high bridges, cloaked figures murmuring in hushed voices. The night was calm, yet tense, as if the world held its breath.
Along a narrow pathway lined with aged lanterns—many extinguished long ago—a lone figure advanced. Clad in polished armor that caught the faintest flicker of starlight, he moved with measured precision. The metal plates did not clatter; instead, they emitted the soft, controlled sound of someone trained beyond the limits of ordinary warriors.
His face remained hidden beneath a mask crafted with intricate symbols and runes that glowed faintly. Yet despite the anonymity, there was something unmistakably human in the way his shoulders sagged for a moment, as though carrying a burden unseen.
He paused beneath an archway, glancing around—checking, listening. A deep breath escaped him, fogging slightly in the cold air. Only then did he continue, turning sharply and slipping through a narrow, unremarkable entrance tucked between towering pillars.
The door creaked softly. On the other side lay a vast courtyard, though time had not been gentle with it. Ivy consumed the once-grand walls, and shattered stone tiles littered the ground like the remnants of a forgotten era. Moonlight filtered between broken columns, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted like old spirits.
Finally, the armored man stopped in front of a small, shabby building—so ordinary that it was easy to overlook in the grandeur surrounding it. Yet he hesitated before entering, hand hovering over the rusted metal handle as if unsure.
When he finally pushed open the door and slipped inside, the silence deepened.
The world outside continued to shimmer with ancient power—but here, in this neglected corner of a celestial palace, something far more personal waited. Something secret.
Something that could change everything.
At the center of the courtyard stood a man dressed in pristine white robes embroidered with golden engravings. The soldier halted, his breath catching as he recognized the figure before him. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.
"Your Majesty, what has happened that you summon me here rather than at the palace?"
The man in white let out a weary sigh. "I do not know why fate has chosen this path," he murmured. "Today should have been a joyous day—the day I welcomed my third child into the world. But destiny seems to find amusement in cruelty. Hahaha..." His bitter laughter faded as he stepped closer, motioning for the soldier to rise.
"When my son was born a few hours ago, I was overjoyed. He was a gift, an unexpected miracle. Our royal bloodline, the 'Shadow God Bloodline,' has always been a symbol of strength. And he... he possessed the purest blood our family has ever seen. But... his body could not withstand the burden of such power. The energy required to form such purity drained his fragile body, and he could not hold on."
The soldier's eyes widened in shock. His mind reeled at the revelation. A child born with a legendary bloodline—one that surpassed all before him—only to be struck down by the very power meant to elevate him. The weight of the tragedy settled over him like an unshakable shadow.
"Your Majesty, tell me what I must do. If there is any way to save the young master, I will give my life to make it so."
The king's gaze darkened. "I did not summon you here to find a solution," he said flatly. "I need you to take something far away from this place. As far as possible."
The soldier did not hesitate. "I will obey without question, Your Majesty."
The king studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "Do you not even wish to know what it is?"
"My duty is to follow your command, not to ask questions."
A bitter smile flickered across the king's lips. "It is your young master's body."
Silence fell over the courtyard. The soldier stared at the king, disbelief etched into his features. Even if the child had perished, how could a father—his own father—order his body to be discarded?
"Your Majesty..."
The king exhaled shakily. "I know what you must think of me. That I am cruel. Perhaps I am. When I learned my son could not withstand the bloodline's power, I searched desperately for a way to save him. We found an ancient text—a forbidden method that could strip him of his bloodline and leave him with a normal life. But the process was excruciating. He screamed, suffering the torment of not only losing his power but being invaded by death energy itself. Even I, a king, doubt I could endure such agony. But he did. He endured it all... until his body could take no more."
Tears welled in his eyes, though he quickly wiped them away. "His mother has not even laid eyes on him. She was unconscious throughout it all. And now... I do not know what to tell her when she wakes."
The soldier followed the king's gaze to a small bed in the courtyard, where a tiny, lifeless body lay motionless. The air grew heavier, thick with grief and regret.
"Your Majesty, even if the young master has passed, should we not grant him a proper farewell?"
"If he had died a natural death, he would have received the grandest send-off our kingdom could offer. But he did not. And I cannot tell you why—at least not now. You will understand once your task is done. I have sealed his body, but the effect will last only a few hours. Take him far away and find him a resting place among the stars."
The soldier clenched his fists. "Your Majesty, I... I cannot do this. The Queen has treated me as her own son. How can I rob her of the chance to see her child, even in death?"
The king's expression hardened. "I have found a solution. It is cruel, but necessary. I cannot allow anything to threaten the royal family's survival. Take him and find him a final resting place in the vast sky. That is my command."
And with that, he vanished, disappearing into the night like a shadow.
The soldier collapsed to his knees, his body trembling. "How could you ask this of me? To bury the child of a woman who treated me as her own? What destruction do you fear so much that you would forsake your own son? This is not duty... this is running away."
A long silence followed before he finally rose to his feet and approached the small body. He gazed upon the child's pale face—so lifeless, yet still wearing a faint, peaceful smile. He knew the child had at most two hours left before the sealing magic faded. If he did not do it, someone else would.
Lifting the infant gently into his arms, he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Forgive me, little brother. I could not save you. But I will take you on one last journey. Even if I can never forgive myself for this..."
With those words, he vanished into the night, just as the king had.
Across the cosmos, countless trillions of light-years away, a lone figure materialized in the vast, empty void. He wore an ancient suit of armor, and in his arms, a small basket cradled a newborn baby. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"Please forgive me, little one. I could not protect you. I am sorry. This necklace... it was a medal that I wore with pride. But now... I am not worthy of it."
Carefully, he placed a small pendant around the infant's neck.
"I hope it will protect you wherever you go. I am sorry... I am so sorry."
With a final, painful breath, he released the basket into the boundless chaos of space, sending the child into an uncertain fate. A journey that would either mean death... or rebirth.
As he watched the basket drift into the endless void, the weight of his guilt bore down on him. He turned away, vanishing into the darkness.
To many, this would seem the end of the child's story. But chaos is both destruction and creation, an eternal cycle. And in chaos, even death can become the birth of something new.
A new life.
A life of chaos.