Vern Kael, do you recognize me?
The voice was deep, ancient—like the rustling of countless wings in the dead of night. A black, shadowy figure loomed before him, vast and terrible, its form resembling that of a colossal eagle. Its wings, even half-spread, looked large enough to blot out the stars or shroud an entire lake beneath their span. The sheer pressure of its presence made Vern's breath catch in his throat. He couldn't quite discern whether it was a beast, a spirit, or something far beyond mortal comprehension.
His throat was dry, but he forced himself to swallow the lump forming there. With trembling resolve, he lifted his gaze to the enormous shadow, meeting the eyes that glowed in its darkness. They were the size of a man's head—twin orbs that saw too deeply, as though they could unravel his very soul.
"No… I do not," Vern admitted, his voice quieter than he intended, yet it still carried into the vast emptiness around them.
For a long moment, silence reigned. The figure did not move, its massive shadow stretching endlessly, suffocating the space between them. Then, slowly, it leaned forward, its gaze intensifying, pinning Vern in place like prey under a predator's talons.
"Then it can't be helped…" the voice rumbled, neither anger nor kindness within it, only inevitability. "You must answer my questions."
The words echoed unnaturally, as though the void itself carried them. Vern's chest tightened. He had no idea what this being was or what it sought from him, but one thing was certain—refusal was not an option.
"Thousands of years ago," the figure began, its voice a deep, rolling echo that seemed to reverberate through the very bones of the earth, "there was a man… A man who looked upon the fragile existence of his kind and found it unbearable. He was not satisfied with the meager scraps of power humanity clung to. No… his hunger was far greater. He longed to ascend beyond the petty boundaries of flesh, to seize a height that no mortal hand, no king nor emperor, had ever grasped in all of mankind's history."
The shadow paused. Its immense wings shifted slightly, and the air rippled as though the world itself trembled at the memory.
"He abandoned comfort, abandoned kin, abandoned the fleeting warmth of love. He dedicated every heartbeat, every drop of blood, to one path: to transcend humanity itself. For in those days…" The figure's eyes gleamed like twin suns swallowed by darkness. "…there was not a single human who could stand equal to the greater races. The world belonged to the demons, the ancient beasts, and the creatures born of chaos. Any one of them was strong enough to erase humanity as if it were nothing more than dust carried by the wind."
The vast silhouette leaned closer, its gaze pressing down upon Vern, unyielding, suffocating.
"And so, he sought to become something else. Something beyond man. Something the world had never witnessed before…"
"After countless years of struggle, of bleeding and clawing his way through despair, he succeeded."
The vast figure's voice deepened, echoing with something between awe and dread. "He shattered the fragile shell of his humanity and rose above it. The first of his kind to transcend the limits of flesh and spirit. From that day, the world came to know him as the Demon King of Divine Glory—a title both feared and revered."
The air grew heavy, and Vern felt his chest tighten as though those ancient words carried the weight of millennia.
"But in his pursuit of power," the figure continued, its eyes narrowing, "he forsook everything that once made him whole. Family, bonds, the warmth of his humanity—all cast aside, all consumed by his ambition. With every triumph, his arrogance grew. He believed he had surpassed kings and gods alike. He thought himself untouchable."
The massive wings shuddered, and a low growl of thunder rumbled through the void.
"Yet, for all his might, he never realized the truth. The thread… the one that binds all beings… had not been severed."
The figure's gaze locked onto Vern, unblinking, piercing through him.
Vern looked at the colossal figure. But this time, there was no haze clouding his thoughts, no trembling in his heart. He stood calm, his gaze steady, as though he had accepted the weight of what he was hearing.
The shadow leaned closer, its wings curling inward like a cloak of night, and its voice reverberated through the void.
"Though he had forsaken what once made him human," it said, "there was one thing he could never master. His desires… and his emotions."
A slow, hollow laugh echoed—neither mocking nor joyous, but mournful.
"There are hundreds, even thousands across history, who claim to sever their emotions, to discard love, hate, fear, and longing in their pursuit of power. But what they truly do… is bury them. Suppress them. Pretend they are gone. Very few—so very few—can truly control them. And he… the one who called himself a god… was not among them."
The figure's eyes flared, vast orbs glowing like molten suns.
"In the end, the emotions he thought he had slain only slumbered within him. And when they awoke… they erupted—wild, uncontrollable—bursting from him like molten magma tearing free from the heart of a volcano. That storm of desire and arrogance consumed him, and from the heights of glory, he plummeted into ruin."
The echo of the words seemed to linger in the air, like distant thunder fading across endless skies.
"Now tell me wh—"
Before the figure could finish its words, a sudden sound tore through the heavy silence.
"Hahaha…"
It was laughter. Low at first, then rising, echoing unnaturally across the void. It was Vern.
The creature froze, its vast shadow stiffening. Its burning eyes widened, momentarily dumbfounded. Never once in its long existence had one so small, so fragile, dared to laugh in its presence. It leaned forward, wings folding slightly, and its voice rumbled with a mix of confusion and suspicion.
"Why… did you laugh?"
Vern's laughter slowly faded, leaving behind only the calm rhythm of his breathing. He straightened his back, no trace of fear in his eyes now. Staring into the colossal being's gaze—eyes larger than his entire body—he spoke with an unnerving steadiness.
"Why did you tell me this story?" Vern asked, his tone cold, measured. "Was it to glorify that so-called 'god'? To announce his incompetence, to parade his arrogance as a warning? Or…" His lips curved faintly, almost mockingly. "…are you merely trying to gauge my resolve?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. The shadow's vast form loomed over him, but Vern did not waver.
"He may have tried to discard his emotions…" Vern said, his lips curling into a grin. His voice trembled with a strange fervor, and then—
"Hahahaha!"
A manic laugh spilled from his chest, wild and unrestrained. His eyes gleamed with something unshakable. "But I… I am different. I do not need to discard them. No, I want to experience them. Again and again. Over and over!"
The enormous figure remained silent, its shadow swallowing the space around them. Its gaze, sharp and piercing, fixed upon Vern, as though weighing his every word. Finally, with a dignified, rumbling voice, it asked—
"…Why?"
Vern tilted his head slightly, laughter fading into a dangerous smile. "What do you mean, why? What meaning would remain if I had no emotions? If my heart felt nothing, then what reason would there be to draw another breath? To walk another step?"
He took a deep breath, his voice steady but burning with conviction.
"Love. Hate. Anger. Sorrow. Joy. Every single one of them—these are the true essence of life. Without them, there is no color, no fire, no meaning. Strip them away, and all that remains is a hollow husk pretending to live."
Vern's eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, a fire that refused to be extinguished.
"In this world, no one—no matter how strong, no matter how divine—can truly live without emotions. Because life without them…" He paused, the silence around him taut as a blade's edge.
"…is no life at all."
"But don't you want to become an existence who stands above such things?" the figure asked, its vast voice rolling like thunder across the void.
Vern did not flinch. He let out a quiet breath, then smirked faintly. "Well… it's true," he admitted. "The thought of transcending everything does have its allure. But in the end, it all comes back to my own excitement in life. And from the story you told me… wasn't that your purpose? To see how I would respond to the life of that man?"
The colossal being said nothing. Only silence stretched between them, deep and heavy.
"..."
Vern's gaze sharpened. His voice rang clear, cutting through the stillness. "He was incompetent. He failed to achieve what he sought. For all his strength, for all his arrogance, in the end he was still bound—still shackled by the very emotions he thought he had cast away. That was his downfall."
The fire in his eyes blazed brighter as he took a step forward.
"But I am not like him. I enjoy them. Love, hatred, anger, sorrow—each one adds fuel to my life. They are not burdens to me, but treasures. I will embrace them, experience them, and grow stronger through them."
Then, his expression turned sharp, almost ruthless.
"However…" Vern's tone lowered, carrying a dangerous edge. "…if the day ever comes when those emotions become chains that try to bind me, then I will not hesitate. I will cast them aside, without regret."
His words lingered in the silence, bold and absolute.