The chill in the air was palpable.
Amidst the raging crimson flames conjured by a saint, Nel felt a deeper agony than the fire that engulfed everything around him.
It was the crushing realization that he was powerless to change his fate, even if given the chance.
His life—the very essence of his existence—was a failure.
The oppressive cold settled around Nel, a constant reminder of his worthlessness. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. How had he reached this point?
Nel had never been the type to shudder at the thought of death or pain. Even the idea of harming a loved one wouldn't have shaken his foundation.
He was a monster, born of a demi-heart, but his love for the dying woman beside him was fiercely authentic.
For the first time, Nel discovered a semblance of value in his life.
Jenny was more than family to him; she transcended that bond.
She was his hope, his very soul.But this wasn't some sentimental insight into his humanity.
This was stark reality.
Nel, the Zen-Spirit of Ajar, had undergone a form of evolution: he had found compassion.Compassion.
Why?
Because Nel understood his race could never attain true consciousness.
The probability of acquiring self-awareness among his kind was staggeringly low—one in a hundred million.
But compassion? That rare emotion typically reserved for humans or half-breeds was something Nel had never expected to grasp.
Yet, here he was, deeply affected by the unfathomable. The realization that he could change, that he could rise above his failures, was intoxicating.
Nel despised pain, his hollow existence, and even the powers he possessed. But, above all, he loathed his very being.
And still, a nagging thought lingered: if 'He' were given a chance, would he make the same choices Nel did?
Would he favor compassion over selfishness?
Or would he forge a path that was utterly unattainable for Nel?
He had always hoped he could shift the perception of his monstrous existence.Was that so wrong?
As Nel's expression shifted, something flickered within him.
His life seemed defined solely by the hope he drew from Jenny's 'filthy' words.He had even chosen the lesser path, a downgrade in evolution, clinging to notions of righteousness.
The potential for evolution—so raw and yet grotesque—was something Jenny believed Nel could grasp in a nobler sense.
Yet here he was, a fool who had followed her vision for five long years.
The remnants of Nel's skin trembled as his bones cracked.
Damn it, why couldn't he be decisive?
Why couldn't he unleash the monster within?
"Crack."
Why did her opinions matter so much to him? Was loneliness and a desperate need for a motherly bond enough to blind him to his own desires?
His face softened, eyes fluttering shut.But then Nel found no fault in her motives.
What if 'he' had been given the opportunity?
Would he too yearn for a mother's love?
Or would he instead carve out his dreams independently?
Was Nel truly better at living than 'he' was? Or even Jenny?
"Was it really just luck?"
Why was Nel's fate so fragile?
Why had he chased another's benefit?
Why had he forsaken his own instincts to develop human emotions?
What did he truly gain from all of this?He hated it!Rumble.
The distant rumbling reverberated, and skyscrapers crumbled like sandcastles. Telcos City, once alive with vibrance, was now reduced to ash.
"Mushroom City won't be much different," Nel thought.The acrid scent of charred flesh wafted through the air—appetizing in a grotesque way.
Nel raised his gaze to the heavens, where beautiful yet destructive remnants of sacrifice danced through the atmosphere, weaving their way into his soul and essence."Blood-born vestiges."
The pain overwhelmed him.He despised them.
"But,"
Nel hesitated, almost faltering,
"I hate myself even more."
He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in reality. As he looked down at Jenny, tears slipped free.His twisted visage shaped into a frown.
"You can't leave me yet, Jenny."
"I won't let you die. Please, don't leave me."
"When did you turn into such a crybaby, Nel?"Jenny whispered.
Her complexion waxed pale, her life force departing rapidly.
Coldness enveloped Nel as her body remained entwined with the earth.She was dying.
Green tendrils of corruption wrapped around her, gnawing at her essence. Her blood seeped into the soil, absorbed by hungry insects and the relentless heart core.
Even she, once vibrant, was slowly deteriorating—almost at the cusp of saint-level. Yet, she remained powerless against a true saint in battle.
Let alone two.
All of this madness traced back to the Crystal Rulek, an artifact from a fabled sanctum. It was the fruit of ancestral evolution—a rare item that afforded any saint or devil class the chance to evolve.
Such items invited chaos, and the sudden influx of saint-class vestiges fighting over it in this already cloistered city was inevitable.If only Nel were stronger.
His power felt paltry, trapped at Vestige 2 his whole life. He was nothing—a failure.
Five years of grueling training, and all Nel had to show for it were these meager abilities.
Snapped back into the present by the acrid scent of burning stone and blood, Nel locked eyes with the woman who had rescued him from his imprisonment, the one who had taught him to write and speak.
The gravity of his inability to return her kindness struck him like a physical blow—sharp, cold, and unrelenting.
"I'm sorry, Nel. I've dragged you into my mess, haven't I?"
Jenny's voice trembled as she offered a bitter smile, pain etched deep into the lines of her face.
"It's fine. I'm part of the team too," he replied, though the words felt hollow amid the devastation.
A laugh escaped her lips, brittle and fleeting, quickly replaced by a wince that twisted her features.
Regeneration, for her, was sometimes more curse than blessing.
Crimson-tinged green blood spilled from Jenny's mouth, staining her chin and pooling on the shattered earth beneath her.
As her essence began to fade, she mustered a final, fragile smile, her eyelids fluttering closed.
With consciousness slipping away, she whispered, "Yes, Nel, you are part of this team."
Coldness enveloped Nel's hands as Jenny's body withered into nothingness, dissolving into the dust and ruin around them.
Amidst the skeletal remains of buildings and the lifeless forms of those once dear to him, a deep ache rooted itself in his chest—a visceral pain mingling with a burgeoning rage.
His soul screamed; his heart pulsed with raw fury. Suddenly, his eyes ignited with a blood-red glow, awakening a hunger he had never known.
In a trance-like state, he seized the rune key and dashed toward the sanctum—the heart of the tomb.
He sprinted past the corpses of innocents, rage coursing through him like wildfire, consuming every rational thought.
The desire for revenge roared within: I'll eradicate them all—every last one of them.As the weight of that ambition settled over him, an unsettling reality dawned, yet a dark smile cracked across his face, revealing a terrifying resolve.
Or at least, he would make them pay.Upon reaching the sanctum, Nel moved with eerie calmness, ignoring the threats that lurked in the shadows.
But soon, the sheer beauty of the space left him momentarily dazed. The sanctum's white exterior gleamed, adorned with glistening gold and black ores, untouched by time—more cathedral than tomb.
Ascending the grand stairs, he entered an expanse filled with countless radiant orbs, their light dancing across the marble floor.At the center of it all, he caught a glimmer—a heart.It was likely the very heart of the tomb itself.
Golden-white crystals illuminated the vast chamber, but nothing compared to what lay at its core: the Crystal Rulek.Approaching, Nel found himself entranced by the gem.
It pulsed with deep, ancient essence, promising unimaginable power.Yet, even as awe washed over him, a part of Nel knew this object was the catalyst for all the suffering around him.
He smirked, determination hardening his features. He would outsmart them all.He could possess it, but he had to act quickly. The echo of footsteps and harsh voices grew louder—his pursuers were closing in.
"Bastards, like hell I'll give it to you,"
he muttered under his breath.Clutching the key, Nel poured his essence into it, feeling it intertwine with his very soul, fusing with the Rulek.
The moment he touched the case, warmth radiated through his body, chasing away the chill. His eyes regained clarity, shifting from blood-red back to their original blue.
Colors exploded around him—vibrant, terrifying, surreal.They were close now; he needed to hurry—"Huh! You little bastard, what the hell do you think you're doing?
"That's mine!" a man's voice thundered, jolting Nel from his focus.
Panic surged through him.He had to get his core inside—before—The man lunged forward, his approach crackling through the air like a storm.
In an instant, Nel felt the man's hand plunge into his back, seizing his heart with brutal force.
Coughing crimson blood, Nel was struck by the bitter irony—this was the first time he truly understood what it meant to have a heart. It felt so cold.
"No, not like this," he gasped, blood splattering onto the Rulek as his strength ebbed away.
Damn it!
I can't fail now.
His eyes grew icy as he reached desperately for the Rulek.
The man hurled him against the wall, the impact rattling his bones.
Nel's eyelids grew heavy as darkness blurred the edges of his vision.
But was it black? Or was it white?