Is happiness a reward?
Is happiness a goal?
Is happiness a mirage in a desert you stumbled into by mistake — but now it's too late to turn back?
Is it true that happiness finds those who fight for it?
Probably.
That's the answer if you look at the surface — the polished side of the coin, without checking what lies beneath.
Those who strive diligently for their dreams *should*, in theory, be rewarded.
Right?
That's what books, fairy tales, and sermons teach.
Everything that glitters goes to those who don't back down.
And yet…
And yet, life is far less polished.
Life is far less forgiving.
That path — the path of struggle — always comes at a price.
You don't get happiness.
You get pain.
And after pain comes hatred.
Hatred for what you fought for.
And hatred from those you tried to protect.
They saw me as a deranged monster.
Devoid of feeling.
Devoid of mercy.
Devoid of the right to forgiveness.
A monster who had grown tired of the game he himself created.
And perhaps they were right.
I made a contract. With one of my own creations.
We began a game. A game with a name that sounded like a verdict: *inevitable fate*.
For everyone who played, there was no choice.
In this process — not a game, not a battle, but a *process* — we soaked each other in hatred.
Me toward them. Them toward me.
Like two sides of a single coin, etched with the words *"it's over."*
But why?
Why couldn't they understand?
I never chose to be the pinnacle.
I *had* to be.
Like one who stands above all. Like one who must decide when others can barely breathe.
I made a decision.
Unshakable.
Like a king passing judgment on his subjects — to save those very subjects.
In this merciless war, everyone died.
Every step — new blood.
Even if the stakes were humanity itself, even if the alternative was the end for all…
…the decision remained a decision.
Let everyone die, or let half perish?
Anyone would choose the latter.
But not everyone would want to be the one who *chooses*.
I destroyed more than half of what I had created.
With my own hands.
By my own will.
All so the rest could have a chance — to keep living.
Did they understand me?
No.
They hated me.
How can you understand someone who sacrifices you for others?
How can you forgive someone who grants salvation at the cost of pain?
One person… just one — he agreed.
He wanted power.
Power enough to destroy them all.
I granted it.
Perhaps there were other paths.
But they were impossible.
I created countless hierarchies.
Placed supreme beings upon them.
True Gods — not a metaphor, but a title.
And lost everything.
Half my power. My connection to them. My control.
Sealed forever in my own world.
Locked away. Like a book no one reads.
I could only watch as my creations marched to ruin, powerless to warn them.
Irony? Maybe.
I had absolute authority — yet I became a pawn.
A piece on someone else's board.
In someone else's game.
Their fear of me was natural.
Like a child afraid of the monster under the bed — so too did they fear me.
A monster that might have truly existed.
All I wanted was to reclaim what I'd lost.
Only then could I stop the coming calamity.
*The Great Calamity.*
But even one who commands fate itself…
Even he meets an end.
When you stand above life and death, you don't expect your own demise.
You believe it impossible.
You are immortal.
…But the man who cast everything aside —
His essence. His nature.
Himself — He proved that even an end can come.
Even for those above death.
His name was **Yahweh**.
He was the one I made a contract with.
He was the one I began the game with.
Four years.
An eternity of pain and suffering, compressed into the pitiful human measurement of time.
We lost our emotions.
We became neither human nor god, but… something.
Empty.
Like beasts who'd lost their instincts.
We had a goal. Only that.
Our egos screamed deep within that we didn't want this.
That we *hated* this.
We silenced it.
Sealed our feelings in the depths of our minds.
Shut the lid. Hammered in the nails.
Forgot.
But sometimes…
Sometimes, I wanted to scream.
From the pain.
From this pain I've carried all this time.
I became a monster. In their eyes.
I accepted their gaze.
Accepted this new form.
Erased myself. Created another — the one they saw me as.
Not for recognition.
Not for victory.
But to save the lives of those who hated me.
Such is the fate of those who seek happiness.
You can chase it.
You can fight to the end.
But in the end — you'll still fall into the abyss.
An abyss you dug yourself.
As long as you're just a piece in someone else's game, as long as you're not the player but the *played*…
…you've already lost.
— How ironic, — I snarled. — Even now, they see me as a murderer. A monster. Accusing me of a crime I didn't commit!
But… I don't care.
I don't care what the others think.
I know this isn't my doing.
And that's enough for me.
I won't grovel before them, begging them to believe my alibi.
Only one fool is on my side.
Without proof.
Without gain.
He keeps believing.
Keeps trying to prove my innocence to the rest.
And that's enough.
You really are… an incredible guy, Aragi.
I recall him saying he came here from the future.
From a future where humanity lost.
Lost the game for its own existence.
He was the only one who survived.
Him and his friends.
Survived among unknown beings… X.
But there's a discrepancy in this story.
Aragi…
*Such a world shouldn't exist.*
**Then who are you, really?**