In the beginning, there was neither existence nor non-existence. All was absent-an unspoken void, a silent space where even the concept of time had no meaning. Perhaps there was no 'before' that moment; perhaps it was the very first spark, an unformed idea in a place where ideas themselves did not exist. What I know, what I can feel, is that something began, and since that moment, it has never stopped.
No matter how far you run from it, how much you wish to escape, this unending flow will find you. It is not bound by time, nor can it be held back by desire. The end is not something you can outrun-it waits, always, inevitable. One day, it will come for all, for everything, and there will be no stopping it.
Countless points have passed since that first spark, and yet this point-the one we are in now-is where it all begins to weave its tale. From the end to the beginning, from the beginning to the end, as if both are the same. And in the midst of this, all we can do is witness, understand, and perhaps, just perhaps, accept the truth that it never truly ends. Or maybe at one point it does-who will tell us? This tale? Maybe another. Perhaps it goes beyond these tales, somewhere where they all unite.
---
"Give it to us," the man with the sword demanded.
The shopkeeper stood trembling, petrified by the mere presence of the man.
The brute shouted again, louder this time:
"What are you doing, you moron?! Pay your tax by giving us food."
The shopkeeper, barely holding his words together, mumbled,
"But…we don't have enough food even for my family ?"
Those words sparked the man's rage. He grabbed his sword, raising it high to punish the old vendor. But before he could swing-
**SHING!**
The sound of a blade slicing clean through flesh. Before even the wind could shift, the man's wicked face split in two.
A boy stood behind him-stoic, unmoved. The man's body collapsed. His companions were stunned. The boy didn't flinch. He looked at the others with quiet resolve.
Then he spoke.
"Brother."
Another figure leapt from the shop's roof, stabbing two of the remaining goons mid-air. They dropped like sacks of grain, lifeless.
The last one, terrified, began backing away, his breath short and shallow. He tried to speak-but before he could, a knife pierced his throat. He too fell. Dead.
The shopkeeper, still shaken, stuttered,
"Y-You… bandits…"
The older of the two brothers replied gently, warmth in his voice,
"It's alright. You're safe now, Akuji."
The shopkeeper, regaining just a sliver of courage, exclaimed,
"No... No! Go away, wicked bandits!"
The younger brother smirked,
"With a business as failed as yours, Akuji, I doubt you care about your tin-"
"Oye! Language," Shinjiro-the elder-cut him off.
"But Akuji you should stop being such scared from everything they were clearly not actual Khalor actual guards I never have seen them around".
Yasha, the younger, calmed and grinned, picking up an apple.
"Well, Brother… don't you think we deserve a little reward?"
He tossed the apple, catching it with a smile.
"I say we earned at least four of these."
Shinjiro said nothing, simply nodded.
Akuji didn't dare stop them. The brothers left with a few fruits in hand. He could do nothing but watch.
---
The village of Niyati was remote. Its people lived unaware of the world beyond the forested borders.
Among them were the two brothers-from different mothers, and even fathers-Yasha and Shinjiro Kagemura. Raised by a single man: the monk-like master Mathur, a bald man with a greying beard and an aura beyond age.
Mathur lived a kilometer outside the village, beneath a large tree. It was there the brothers now returned with their reward.
"Master!" Shinjiro called.
Mathur didn't move. Fingers locked in meditation, he sat still, silent.
"Maybe he's asleep," Yasha said softly.
Shinjiro didn't buy it.
"Oye, old man! Wake up. Now's not the time to nap!"
Mathur finally opened his eyes, slow and deliberate.
"Shinjiro. Yasha. You've returned, I see…"
Yasha, curious, asked,
"Were you asleep? Or… something else?"
Mathur looked at them. His gaze heavy with intent.
"For fourteen years, I have taught you how to live… and how to survive. But now, I need something greater from you. A final task."
Yasha smiled, intrigued. Shinjiro remained stoic.
"My sons-my dear students-I want to send you far from this miserable village. "
But he was cut off. He heard a voice. Yasha and Shinjiro both heard the voice-it was clear.
Four armed men ran toward the tree, stopping right before them. They bowed before Mathur.
"Ex-General Mathur," one said. "You are still loved by many. Even Khalor respects what you once gave. But… you're making a mistake. You have not followed the orders. Follow them-or your head will hit the dirt." He bowed mockingly.
"Now, if I may take my leave…"
Mathur looked very tensed
They left leaving silence after a few minutes
Yasha leaned closer to Mathur.
"Master… who were they I never seen them around?"
Mathur stood, straightening his back. His bald head gleamed under the sun. He spoke firmly,
"Yasha. Shinjiro. It's time to leave this village."
He placed a hand on Shinjiro's shoulder.
"Go. And never return."
Yasha stepped forward, confused.
"What the?!...W-what are you talking about, old man?"
Mathur turned to them, his voice heavy:
"Khalor will soon try to kill me. He might do it any day now. And if he does… he'll come after you too-to erase all evidence."
His eyes shone like burning stars, and he whispered,
"You two are dear to me. I cannot lose you."
The brothers were moved, yet still unsure.
They asked again:
"But why, Master? Why this fear? Why now?"
Mathur walked past them, eyes on the horizon. He didn't look back.
"I'm afraid… I can't tell you everything," he said calmly. Then fell silent.
Shinjiro, grabbing Mathur's shoulder, frustrated, said,
"Master, do you really expect us to buy whatever you are saying and just leave the village?" he asked calmly.
Mathur left, removing Shinjiro's hand, saying,
"Do as you wish," and soon he went far away, possibly towards the village.
---
A few hours later.
Yasha and Shinjiro were regretting letting Mathur go, but they couldn't dare to stop him after he was so sure of his decision.
Shinjiro mumbled,
"Has this old man gone crazy?"
Yasha, not seeing eye to eye,
"No," he said with aplomb, then expanded,
"Those guys that came clearly said they will take his head. That only implies that their intentions are clear."
Shinjiro grabbed Yasha by the collar then asked,
"Mathur is one of the most respected among the Generals-even though he is former-but he is still one of the Saptenernals of the Village. Why would Khalor even try killing him? He has no reason!"
Yasha didn't flinch and asked Shinjiro to calm down because they should think more clearly about the whole situation rather than panicking or getting angry.
Shinjiro let go of Yasha and asked, frustrated,
"Then tell me where that old man headed."
Yasha smiled and said,
"Truly speaking, he has nowhere to go except the village."
Shinjiro questioned what Mathur intends to do in the village. Yasha replied there is only one place, and that is to go to the village itself. They both decided after eating the apples they would head towards the village to look for their master. They didn't have any transport, as the village only had horses-and those belonged to the governors. They walked towards the village slowly.
While walking, they discussed Mathur.
"I still can't believe Master would just leave us like that and tell us to leave the village. He promised me..." Shinjiro said.
Yasha then asked Shinjiro, which ignited his memory,
"Master and you were together since you were only 7, right?"
"That day he promised me that he would..."
---
I think it was 14 years ago.
Feathered friends hoped to fly, and my heart still with hope heard-
"HISTOSOYOKU! You have committed a crime against the Niyati!"
It was nighttime, but people stood outside their houses to watch the beheading of my father. To them, it was a noble deed. I was only 7 at the time.
"Stop it!!!!!" 7-year-old me screamed. I was hiding nearby-I wasn't supposed to be here because children were prohibited when an execution was taking place.
The bald man-I mean, of course, Master Mathur-was one of the people that day guarding the executioner.
"Shinjiro....What are you doing here? I told you not to come," Mathur said.
My eyes were teary; I could cry any moment. The executioner stopped for a moment to look at me-maybe even he could sympathize with the lost little boy I was.
"Shinjiro!!! Run away, this is not your place to be," Mathur said again.
I was broken mentally. I begged him,
"Please... Please don't kill him, let him go."
The executioner ordered,
"Sire Mathur, take care of that boy."
Mathur moved forward towards me and I cried as much as I could in the knees of Master. I didn't know anything else to do.
Mathur covered my eyes with his thumb and said with warmth in his voice,
"It's okay, let's take you home..."
I knew very well even at that time why he covered my eyes, but soon my suspicion came true. The voice is still part of my horrors. The sky turned red. The feathered friends could not fly; they sank in the ground with my heart. My own father was beheaded. His head had fallen to the ground in only a few moments. I felt the darkness of the sky capture my heart. I felt it was all black now. I stood on the ground and began to cry. It cried till it realized it would still beat no matter what.
In the starry night, I was alone. I felt like a hopeless fool.
A few weeks passed by. I learned to steal from the market to survive. I was shunned by the others because I was the son whose father was a criminal. I lost the meaning to live. I lived because I feared death; without it, I was nothing. I couldn't find another meaning to continue.
One day, wandering and stealing market apples, I met Master again.
He looked at me straight without leaving eye contact. He spoke,
"Shinjiro," he spoke softly.
I asked aggressively that day-I couldn't trust him,
"What do you want?"
Mathur, without any hesitation, came closer to me and with warmth, Master spoke that day,
"It'll be alright."
Master after that told me that he had retired since he had passed the limit of being a General and...
"Shinjiro, I'm leaving this village and I want you to come with me," he said very calmly.
I don't know what got into me, but I said slowly,
"O-okay?"
I left the tree and after that I was stuck with him.
We reached the tree where we are right now and he spoke. The warmth in his voice touched my heart fully,
"I promise to you that you can always come to me for shelter of any kind. I would shelter you, Shinjiro, as long as I live. You are my responsibility, no matter how old you get."
That day my body sparkled. I found a way to keep going even if I lost. I learned to hope-maybe for... Mathur-san, for him I hoped, because he gave me a meaning to continue.
---
In the present, Yasha just gave a slight smile to this story then said,
"This never gets old, does it?"
"Master is the idol for me. I can't let anything happen to him," Shinjiro shouted excitedly.
Yasha nodded in strong agreement.
---
The village of Niyati had two doors to enter. One led directly towards the Royal Building, and another led to the market. From there, you could enter anywhere in the village, but from the second gate you had to face the guards of Khalor.
The village wasn't that big-only around 2000 people lived there. The exciting thing was, the brothers never entered through the first main gate but always entered through the second, Royal gate, because it was easier to sneak in at night. As they were despised by the villagers, they wouldn't let them in because they knew both of them were crooks. They stole to live.
But this time, they decided to enter through the main gate because it was even more risky entering through the Royal gate, as it was almost impossible to sneak in without guards noticing them in broad daylight.
As they entered, the gate guard recognized them. His eyes widened, and he stammered,
"You… Y-you are-!"
Before he could finish, Yasha grabbed him, pressed a knife to his neck, and growled,
"Shut up."
The guard froze. Breathing heavily, he nodded and slowly sat back down, pretending nothing had happened.
Yasha and Shinjiro moved quietly into the village, keeping to the shadows. They'd barely made it five meters when a loud voice shattered their stealth.
"You... crooks are here!"
It was Akuji, the vegetable seller.
Heads turned. Within seconds, a crowd formed. People whispered, watching them with a mixture of fear and hatred.
"Those are the ones," someone murmured.
"The crooks who steal from the stalls every week…"
Akuji's voice rose, fierce and shaking,
"Everyone, let's beat them to death!"
Shinjiro panicked. He glanced at Yasha and signaled to run.
But Yasha didn't budge. He stepped forward instead, eyes blazing, and shouted,
"If you dare, come at us!"
He raised his blade. The crowd froze. No one moved.
They were just villagers-sellers, workers-not fighters. Facing two armed boys wasn't worth dying for.
Still, Akuji roared,
"They've tormented us for years! Stolen wheat, vegetables-are we just going to let them walk away?!"
Another vendor stepped up, trying to rally them.
"There's more of us than them! What, are you all cowards now?"
Shinjiro didn't wait. He grabbed Yasha's arm.
"Let's go. Now."
They sprinted through the alleys, the mob chasing close behind. But the brothers knew the streets better-they ducked into narrow paths, leapt over crates, and soon lost them.
Breathing hard, Shinjiro muttered,
"That idiot Akuji… I get he's angry, but beating us to death? Seriously?"
Yasha smirked,
"That's Akuji. But we shouldn't forget why we're here."
Just a few steps ahead, an older woman waved at them from a small house. Her wrinkled face and long black hair framed a kind smile.
The brothers exchanged a quick glance. Could be a trap. But they had no choice.
They approached slowly, alert. She opened the door wider.
They approached slowly, alert. The old woman opened the door wider.
"They won't search for you here," she said calmly.
Shinjiro bowed slightly. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm Kagemura Shinjiro. This is Yasha-my brother by oath."
She chuckled. "You remind me of my grandson."
Yasha eyed her carefully. "Why help us? Aren't we crooks in your eyes too?"
The old woman smiled. "You don't look as bad as they say."
Yasha hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks, Grandma."
She made them tea, sat down with them, and asked where they lived.
"We stay near the Grand Tree," Yasha answered. "With our master."
Just then, a deep cough came from another room.
Yasha's hand reached for his blade. He narrowed his eyes.
"Who's there, Grandma?"
Grandma's sweet smile faded. "It's just my ill husband… It's been days since he's been laying there. Only because of my grandson are we still alive." She looked at the ceiling, her jaw tense. "If it wasn't for him, we'd have died long ago. We don't have food. They keep saying we'll grow more, but the farms are gone. One day I went to the fields-they were destroyed. The village can't produce food anymore. Everyone will die, one by one." Her voice broke and tears fell.
Yasha, stunned, asked, "The farms were destroyed by what?"
She shook her head, hands trembling. "I don't know."
Suddenly, the front door slammed open. Heavy footsteps pounded through the house.
"Grandma! Have you seen two boys around?"
It was Akuji, her grandson. He stopped in the doorway when he saw the brothers. His face twisted with a mix of shock, anger, and exhaustion.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Akuji's voice shook. "You… You're here? After everything you've done?"
He stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. "Every week, you take from us. You steal, and we starve. Grandma is dying-don't you see that?"
Yasha stood up, hands open, trying to calm him. "Akuji, we didn't mean-"
"Don't!" Akuji's voice cracked. "Don't pretend you care! I watched you steal while she wasted away!"
Grandma reached for his arm. "Akuji, please, calm down-"
He pulled away, his breath ragged. "No! I'm tired of watching her suffer while they live off what little we have!"
His eyes darted to the kitchen. He grabbed a knife, holding it tight, but his hand trembled.
Shinjiro stood, raising his hands. "Akuji, put it down. We don't want to hurt you."
Akuji's whole body shook. "You already have!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "You took everything!"
He lunged at Shinjiro, swinging wildly. Shinjiro tried to block, but Akuji's foot caught him in the stomach, sending him sprawling. Yasha moved fast, rolling and slicing at Akuji's hand, knocking the knife away and sending it clattering across the floor.
For a heartbeat, everyone froze.
Akuji's face contorted with pain and rage. He snatched the knife again and, in a desperate, blind motion, hurled it at Yasha's leg. The blade bounced off harmlessly, as if Yasha's skin were made of stone.
Shinjiro stared in disbelief. "Yasha, how-?"
But Akuji was beyond reason. He charged again, screaming, "You ruined us! You ruined everything!"
Grandma tried to hold him back, sobbing. "Stop, Akuji! Please-"
But Akuji, lost in his fury, shoved her aside. The knife flashed. There was a gasp-a terrible silence-and Grandma crumpled to the floor.
Akuji stared at the blood on his hands. The knife dropped from his fingers.
"No… No, no, no, Grandma! I-I didn't-" His voice broke into a wail. He fell to his knees beside her, sobbing. "No… please, wake up…"
Yasha's eyes filled with sorrow. Shinjiro stood frozen, horrified.
For a long moment, all was still except for Akuji's weeping.
Then, suddenly, Akuji's grief twisted into rage. He grabbed the knife again, turning on the brothers, tears streaming down his face.
"You! Because of you, she's gone! You took everything from me!" His voice was raw, broken.
He charged at them, wild and desperate. The brothers had no choice.
Shinjiro's blade flashed-quick, clean. Akuji fell, lifeless, beside his grandmother.
The silence that followed was heavy with grief and regret.
Shinjiro looked at Akuji's body, now just a corpse, then he remembered-
When he was 7 years old and first met Akuji:
"Akuji, you died the very day you learned to fight, didn't you?
You said to me when we weren't just kids, when you didn't have any food to eat. I stole the food while you stood in the roads. Your parents died that year because of hunger, but I could steal, I could fight back, but you couldn't. I asked you that day if you think I do the right thing by stealing to survive. You told me:
'No one will save us. You survive, no matter what.'
But tell me, Akuji... is survival worth it if it means losing everything else?
You shed blood for a purpose. I wonder, is that the price of meaning?
He is mine. But is it right to give everything for it?
Would you have done the same, if you'd known the cost?
You couldn't fight, you couldn't steal because you thought it was wrong, but now what is exactly wrong and right?"
Yasha carefully observed Shinjiro's words, then said,
"Let's go. We can't stay here for longer."
---
As they were about to leave, the most unexpected happened-something they wouldn't expect in a thousand years.
A voice from the room where Shinjiro heard the coughing man came,
"Stop!"
The door opened.
"I'm Khalor," he smirked. He was tall and big, but old and skinny.
The brothers, astonished, just looked at the half-dead man Khalor was. They didn't expect him to look like this.
Shinjiro looked at Yasha and asked,
"Is he for real?"
Khalor spoke slowly,
"Let's go to the royal building... there we can observe it better."
Yasha asked,
"But why would Khalor himself show up, and you look..."
Khalor stared at him, then said,
"Do as you wish. Follow me if you want to, Mathur's kids."
Shinjiro whispered to Yasha,
"He looks way different. His skin is way whiter than both of us, his nose is too high."
Khalor, overhearing this, replied,
"Correct. I'm neither Varatan nor Kushen. These are the names of your races. You are Varatan," he pointed to Yasha, "and you elongated-shaped eyes people are Kushen," he pointed to Shinjiro.
The three of them left the privileged area and entered the area where the poorest resided-which is also 1,500 out of 2,000 people.
"You see here, boys," Khalor said. In the background, a boy was crying out of hunger, a woman calming her down. Then suddenly a beggar came towards them,
"Please... please give us the money."
Khalor, being the menace, cut his tongue off and screamed,
"Don't you ever speak to me, you filthy creature!" The man ran away.
The brothers were enraged by the cruelty but didn't speak.
Khalor, menacingly smiling, looked at the brothers,
"You see how troubled things are?"
He widened his hands to point to the poor people asking for food, dying of hunger, and somewhere there were human bones too.
"You see how they are suffering? Do you understand now how not only them but every person is suffering? It's only a matter of time before the area of class finds itself in the same position."
That's why his expression and tone changed,
"Come with me, the kids of Mathur."
As they reached the royal building, Shinjiro said in realization,
"There are no guards even at day? I thought it was only for the night."
Khalor cried,
"This is the building, but before we enter here I want to take you somewhere."
The brothers were alert, but they decided to follow along.
He pointed to the farms,
"They have been destroyed completely. No matter what we do, we can't generate more food by staying. This is our end," his expression turned serious.
The brothers knew this already, but they were confused-why is Khalor telling them this?
Then he started to walk towards the building. He opened the gate with a stylish key.
It was way bigger than the average houses but colorless as them. He sat on his throne.
"Now tell me, kids-"
"Wait a minute," Shinjiro said.
"I have a few questions. Firstly, why are you here alone? Where are the others? What were you doing in Akuji's house? Why did Grandma call you her husband?"
Khalor smiled, then exposed,
"Akuji, that kid was great... I told him I would make him the next ruler,Impervertan, but unfortunately his grandma couldn't handle letting you two die... well, she paid her price. His lineage turned to dust i stood there waiting for you guys body to come she lied to you that I was her husband 1"
Shinjiro screamed in anger,
"What?! You bastard... you ordered him to kill us?"
Khalor ate the dust and said,
"That's correct. Initially, I wanted to get rid of you, but my mind changed. Now I don't want to die. I want to escape..."
Yasha asked as fast as he could,
"Escape from what?"
He smiled maniacally,
"This hellhole, of course, you kid."
Then his expression suddenly changed, like he was about to cry. He sat on the ground,
"I can't control it!"
Like a maniac, he spoke in anger, then he stood, his head down, and said slowly,
"Watch how the power of Nishya is used," he said calmly.
Shinjiro was shocked, but Yasha's expression was calm.
After Khalor screamed-
Yasha and Shinjiro both were alerted, and Shinjiro panicked heavily.
Khalor was so fast that it felt like a cheetah running at its maximum speed. Then he grabbed Shinjiro by the neck and said,
"I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry," he said it with a straight face.
Shinjiro resisted. He tried to slice him with a knife despite being grabbed by the neck. He tried to bite but noticed that it was like metal-he could touch him but couldn't affect him. He tried again and again but-
Yasha watched from a distance, then he calmly said,
"Is that so?" Like he understood something.
He shouted,
"Khalor! Come at me, leave my brother alone!"
Khalor left Shinjiro and grabbed his head. Then tears fell from his eyes. He then ran to Yasha.
But before he could do so, a voice came.
Mathur had already entered through the gate. He stood there and said,
"Stop it, Khalor!"
Khalor stopped suddenly, his eyes in tears.
Yasha and Shinjiro were shocked by the sudden voice. They were shocked that their master was here. Shinjiro's eyes sparkled.
"Master," he said with excitement beyond what can be described. He was relieved but still afraid.
Master Mathur replied,
"Yes, I'm here. Now, Khalor, stop this bullshittery."
Khalor screamed,
"Mathur, everyone died, then why do you stand? Answer me!"
"I wasn't a fool. I was different. I was beyond your foolery. Listen to me, kids-he is a monster beyond what he can be and I will show the world-you kids."
He screamed again loudly then
Khalor almost smashed his hand on the ground suddenly.
The intensity froze Mathur. He shouted, screamed,
"Yasha, Shinjiro, run away! He is about to use maximum force that will destroy the ground entirely!"
Yasha grabbed Khalor before he could do anything.
Khalor, laughing maniacally, asked,
"You can't do anything... please listen to me. That coward is not your master. He is not even a human. He is worst of all."
"Shut up," Yasha said calmly, then he paused, "Don't hide your crime on another face anymore,Not Mathur"
Yasha's mind pulled him back to the first time he met Mathur, a memory etched deeply in his soul.
The battle had just ended. Bloodied and broken bodies littered the ground. Yasha stood amidst the chaos, his heart calmed but alone. He knew destruction was his, but he was alone.
Then, through the smoke, Mathur approached him. The older man's figure was imposing, but his presence was steady-unlike the storm around them. His eyes didn't carry disdain or anger, only quiet understanding.
"Thank you for protecting my student," Mathur's voice had cut through the haze. Yasha could barely comprehend the words, unsure whether they were meant for him.
"From now on, you are my second son. You will live with me."
Yasha, being brought back to reality, boldly said,
"Here the end comes, Khalor."
Khalor chuckled maniacally,
"Kids can't be convinced. They are naive," then he laughed menacingly.
"It's unfortunate," he said in a low voice.
"You can't kill me. Only Nishya force can do anything. My body is covered in Nishya armor."
Yasha smirked,
"You couldn't notice that. How could I lift-" Khalor's face widened. He realized his end was here,
"Impossible! Who are you?"
Yasha stabbed his neck with the knife. He said firmly,
"Beyond the torment you sow lies an end crafted by the hands of every life you shattered."
Khalor's body fell, with tears and a slight smile.
Mathur's eyes widened. Shinjiro could barely process what was happening because it was all so sudden. Khalor broke to the ground with final words,
"I'm sorr..."
But then Mathur looked at Khalor's body with a smile,
"Finally, his end came. It was coming."
But he suspiciously looked at Yasha,
"How? Yasha, how did you know that?"
Shinjiro was confused. He just looked at them without a clue.
Mathur then added,
"For how long?"
Yasha replied with a smile,
"Ever since I was born... I'm not sure what is Nishya, but I guess you call the powers I possess Nishya. I know it as Elyvir."
"I don't understand" Mathur said.
But Yasha didn't reply.
Shinjiro then broke the tension,
"What's happening, Master and Yasha?"
Mathur then replied,
"I'm sorry for hiding this power for so long. I never found a way to teach it to you."
Shinjiro then asked if he was talking about the nishya that made Khalor invincible to the normal knife. Mathur Replied yes he was talking about that
Then Shinjiro asked
"What do you mean by not having the reason to not teach me this power? I was literally playing with my life to survive."
Shijiro then asked how was yasha able to break through nishya shield of Khalor then yasha replied
"just because the name is different doesn't mean it isn't the same thing nishya possessed are only one that can kill another nishya user because no human force can break it unless you use nishya to multiply the force "
So then
After that Master trained us for a week
Then it was time for the Goodbye
Mathur then sat then said
"Listen my dear Students listen to me carefully
The village has no food, no shelter, no protector left to stand watch. If this continues, we are the last generation it will ever see. The end is not approaching—it is already here that's why I'm sending you outside look for the food outside to look for food anywhere i know a particular direction that has the most chance of being a place with habitat,Goodluck that's all I can say"
I don't know where this may lead us, To the worst of hell? or the Greatest joy of the world? that isn't the point today we stand here a long distance from is because we have hope that we can survive hope is the reason we decide to seek another day and I hope that I still seek the another day in a better world.
And then we went to our Journey of hope
The end