There was a lone figure, suspended in the void beneath a blood-red moon.The world itself seemed to hold its breath.No whispers of wind, no rustle of leaves—only one sound broke the silence.
A voice.Low, trembling, poisoned with rage.No—worse than rage. It carried hollowness… grief… the suffocating emptiness of a soul torn apart.
Where am I?Who am I?
Ah… yes. I remember now.I was there—fighting him.It was their fault… all of it.
Why me? Why did God choose me?Why must I be the one drowning in this endless agony?Why not anyone else…?
'Because only you can carry it.'
The reply slithered into the silence.A voice unlike the first: deep, calm, eternal.Cold as stone, yet steady like a graveyard bell
The figure's lips curled into a bitter smile."So… you finally speak, God. After all this time. Tell me… what took you so long? And what is this nonsense—that only I can bear this curse?"
'There are many strong… but strength alone is nothing. This is no crown, no gift. This is the Burden. The weight of a world that must not fall.'
The figure trembled, long white hair swaying in the moonlight. His coat, black as an open grave, hung heavy on his frame."But why me? Why always me? You speak of others… yet I see no one! No one walks this path but I—alone!"
'Who said you are alone?' the voice echoed. 'Look closer. Look around you.'
The figure lifted his gaze—and froze.The red aura coiled around him, twisting, writhing. At first it looked like smoke, but then… it shifted.
From the aura, a shape emerged.A woman—her form ghostly, yet sheltering him with arms of crimson mist.Behind her, a man of shadows stood with a blade, his face obscured but his stance unyielding.More shapes followed, countless silhouettes, their presence whispering in the silence.
From miles away, one could see it—his aura rising into the night, a monstrous specter woven of all those who had touched his life.
The figure's voice broke."These… are they truly here… for me?"
'Yes,' the voice murmured. 'Every soul you reached, every bond you forged, every scar you carved into fate—they return now. Not as mortals, but as shadows bound to your flame. Do you remember… the first words I ever spoke to you?'
The figure staggered, clutching his head as the blood moon burned brighter.Memories surged like a flood. Voices. Screams. Smiles. Tears.All rushing back, clawing at the walls of his mind.
The silence broke.The night trembled.And in that moment—he remembered