Thousands of golems were deployed, descending through the sky with parachutes—machines raining down like a storm of metal and smoke. Behemoths roared in the distance, voices echoing like the bellow of enraged minotaurs, their eyes glowing with primal fury.
The King swept through them, slashing left and right, a white light burning behind his back like a halo of judgment. Each swing cleaved through dozens, each breath a silent vow.
Piercebox smiled faintly through his pain. His body trembled, bruised and bloodied, standing on the border between life and death. He drank from a vial—a regeneration potion mixed with willpower essence—and his organs began to reform, bones stitching themselves together. A skull lay beside him, a remnant, a figment of all his near-deaths.
He had cheated death many times before. This was his final card.
The King's sword carved through the air again, waves of energy rippling like translucent crescents, sweeping across the battlefield. Behemoths fell, their dying bellows fading into the snow. Then came silence.
The King floated midair, wings spread wide, eyes distant. He hesitated.
Was this truly right? To massacre creatures with will? To drown his own kingdom in the blood of the living? All around him were bodies—monsters, machines, soldiers—all silenced beneath the glow of his own light. He had almost destroyed the fleeing ships before catching himself, realizing the devastation he had wrought.
A blunder.
He was supposed to be their protector, their governor—the one who decided what was just. Yet sin clung to his back like chains. He stood still, staring at his own hands. Was I right?
Even that human—Piercebox—bleeding, broken, and smiling at him... why did he still carry hope?
The King's gaze shifted to the horizon. He could feel power rising from the ships—immense, growing stronger, gray-white eyes glowing brighter as his own flesh cracked open to reveal darkness.
It doesn't matter anymore.
I'll destroy anything that threatens this kingdom. I'll be the last one standing.
---
Piercebox stood on the fractured ground, clutching something in his hand—a dreamcatcher, glowing faintly in the smoke. He looked at it the way one might hold onto life itself.
"I guess I'll try again... no matter how many times it takes."
He coughed hard—blood spilling from his mouth—as Eifer's eyes widened in horror.
The King's senses sharpened to inhuman precision. He could see everything in slow motion—Piercebox's trembling body, the faint shimmer of energy around him—and then, suddenly... stillness.
The human was dead.
The King's eyes widened, stunned. "You... human... I'll remember you."
In an instant, the world turned weightless. The ground vanished. The sky rolled and twisted like a spiral of smoke. Piercebox's body dropped—headless—yet his body caught his own head mid-fall. Pain flashed, then faded.
Nothing.
He was breathing, yet breathless.
No...
No.
He was suffocating.
---
Fragments of memory flickered like dying embers.
His brother, Kiso. Ryoko. The three of them selling bread when they were children, laughing beside the wooden cart on a broken street with a broken house as their home behind them. Their parents—gone, leaving the brothers behind in an abandoned house.
They sold half their house to survive, scraping by just enough to see another day.
Then came the day he left. The day he called himself weak. The day he promised to change his name—to become someone strong, someone who would be remembered. Someone great.
But the world was ending anyway... So i guess its much better to save everyone instead.
He met Kiso again. And Toho. And that strange boy—Adam, the white-haired one. Eveyone was trying to find him they said, you'll know when you meet him. And he did.
They shared meals with tableya and bread being cooked, fought side by side, slept under stars, making products together, sing at concert, make jokes. They made plans. They dreamed of goals... They made quite times just resting against each other.
He smiled faintly. "What am I kidding... yeah, I know I'm dying. That's why I'm saying this."
He exhaled, voice trembling.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while... you might miss it."
His body shook, blood dripping from his mouth. "Forgive me, Kiso. This head... these hands... they're useless. But maybe this little brother of yours finally changed."
He smiled faintly, eyes fading. "Even now... I still feel useless."
Eifer cried without stopping, his tears falling like glass shards. The weight of life slipped away as blood poured from both the detached head and body, staining the ground beneath.
He stood calmly, holding his head close, a faint smile on his face.
Eyes closed, as if resting—offering comfort to whoever might still see him.
Then a stop...
Time slowed to a crawl.
A yellow-haired boy stepped forward his fingers were bleeding, eyes blank, gaze locked on the sword embedded in the ground. He remembered the chaos of the past week—the moments, the time, the laughter that lingered in moments...
He sighed softly. "This sword's pretty... guess I'll keep it."
He bent down, taking the dreamcatcher from the fallen corpse. He turned it once in his hand, watching the threads shimmer faintly.
"But this," he said, his voice low and cold, "is more useful."
[...]
In a place far from the battlefield, someone's eyes widened. He bit his lip until blood trickled down, covering his face as tears fell to the ground. The barrier that once held them back shattered, the cold of winter was acclimacting, letting every drop fall like scattered jewels.
From the endless frost of winter…
Kiso: "What did I expect?"
That everything would be fine? That he'd survive? That person… no—I'll turn this entire land to ash.
Golems and Behemoths dragged Toho away into the air. The priority now was invasion and destruction, not capture.
Kiso's hands trembled as he forced the retreat of most ships. He grabbed his rifle, loading it with magically enhanced rounds—explosive, sharp, and laced with toxins strong enough to kill a hundred whales. Adjusting his eyepiece, he took a slow breath, trying to steady himself.
He fired.The shot tore through the yellow-haired man's hand.
"Ugh, damn it… I forgot you were still here," the man coughed, grinning maniacally. He dropped the dreamcatcher as veins pulsed and writhed from his wounded arm, threatening to consume him. With a scream, he sliced the entire limb off.
Kiso: "You killed my brother."
His expression was blank—eyes bloodshot, voice hollow.
The yellow-haired man darted toward a nearby corpse covering from his endless of shots, rifling through its pouch for something. Kiso's fury spiked.
If I fail now… then all my little brother's efforts will mean nothing.Im the useless one... I cant even be like you.I don't have power like yours. I'm just a shadow.If I fail here—because of my weakness—I'd rather die.
He can't let that man have the dream catcher...
Above them, the King saw it—the sky raining with hundreds of rockets. He lifted his arms, trying to form another barrier, but before he could, Kiso's bullet pierced his chest. The King tried to dodge but staggered, coughing, healing the wound—but there was no time.
A storm of fire and gas descended.Nuclear flashes erupted across the town, swallowing everything.
Ash upon ash.Buildings, towers, streets—all erased.Toxic gas rolled over the ruins, endless waves of death.
And in the end came the cremation of every soul that had ever lived in Kaloterm Kingdom. Their grave… was here.
The King lay on the ground, wings torn, his melting face twitching as the poison consumed him. His body shivered in agony, releasing the last fragments of power he had absorb or taken from those he'd slain or captured.
And beside him… lay Adam.