"Freedom.
What is freedom? I often ask myself. But the answer never satisfied me."
History said that this country has been free for 78 years now.
But does freedom truly even exist?
Women are slaves to the fear of scoundrels. Children are slaves to an unwanted dream of a bright future that is far away. Men are slaves to money that defines their identity.
People are slaves to a life of comfort.
We all are slaves to our fate.
And most of all, how could freedom exist in a world that was about to end?
***
The world now dies in pollution. The thick, visible cloud of dark smoke was capable of killing anyone who dared to breathe its toxic death.
This has been the case for decades now. One needed to wear oxygen masks just to go outside.
Although nobody wants to go outside. There is just death here.
But Sael must walk in this decay today, like many people, wearing masks, carrying the weight of a big cylinder for their whole family.
They had to, after all, it was a special day. Like one and only day.
Walking towards an open area beneath the ever-changing light in the dusty sky, Sael's gaze was becoming blurry under the misty mask.
Then he stopped after seeing something unique. It was a shop with a see-through glass window. Shops like that didn't exist these days. The cause was obvious. But some old timers still stuck to such nonsense.
Inside the shop there was a TV that was left on behind. Of course, today who cares about the about-to-end expensive electricity?
On the TV, news was going on. The same old news playing for a month now.
"Everyone knows about that so just shut up already." He frowned at the TV, then walked away.
Soon he reached an open area. A cliff top with benches placed, decades old, now broken by the passage of time. Near him was a family of four—mom, dad, and two kids. The mother was crying, hugging her children with crushing pressure. The father tried to comfort them but broke into tears the next moment.
But that didn't affect Sael. He had no family to even feel such a strange emotion. Not that he wanted to.
He sat on the near-broken bench and opened the book which was his favorite. The book was starting to tear from the overuse, but it was also the symbol of the countless nights he spent with the book.
Sitting on it, he stared at the smoky sky above. It is said that decades ago one could see the celestial dots of light, twinkling in the fantastical sky. But Sael had only seen that in TV and picture books.
He sighed under his mask as the long-forgotten memories surfaced again. It was a memory of his school life. His teacher once asked them to write an essay on a subject. That topic felt laughable at that time. But now that he remembered it, it felt as though his teacher might be a seer.
Liking the homework or not, he did complete it. And today he was doing the same thing he wrote that day.
The topic was "What would you do if it were the last day of the world?"
"I will venture to the cloud of smoke to witness the end of the world with my own eyes."
And that was the reason he was here, like many others.
Because today the world was about to end.
Many cried and cowered as they heard the news two months ago. Some simply accepted their fate silently. The government tried to stop the destruction but failed. No one could stop it, as if it was the will of a being of infinite power.
But it was alright. Sael had no regrets. Well, except for his books he liked so much. Except the TV program he wished to finish. He had some regrets like he wouldn't be able to know what One Piece is.
But that was alright.
Buzz!
His phone received a notification. It was the countdown the government had forced on every device. Which had been showing the countdown for three days now.
"Bastards, not even giving freedom to their last breath," he cursed.
He looked at the timer that had reached the final ten seconds.
He looked at the sky above as the show was about to begin.
The dark, smoke-filled sky of midday was cleared in an instant as countless meteors of death rained in the dying world.
Like a myriad of countless colors, the sky glowed like the field of flowers that had been vanished from the world.
Breaking the sky with a boom of doom, the rain of death fell. Some broke in the sky, some small ones vanished in the heat. But some fell without fail.
Whatever metals they were made up of, when burned they glowed in multiple colors—red, purple, blue, green. For a moment Sael thought they were the rainbow mentioned in his textbooks. As they kept falling like a cosmic melody, whose end would end the world.
Sael stared at it with a smile as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He might even be correct. Maybe death is the most beautiful thing in the world.
As he did, a meteor the size of a small mountain was falling in their direction. In its approach, the family of four fled as if they could run it off and survive.
Looking at the sure death, he opened his book for the last time. As he did, tears flowed through his eyes, blurring his vision even more.
As the unavoidable death came closer and closer, he suddenly stumbled.
'A-Am I afraid of death? Have I not accepted it by now? I was dying my whole life, what will this death change?'
As the death neared, his tears became uncontrollable. Throwing his book, he ran for his life.
He ran and ran and ran. But no one could outrun death. Death is unavoidable. With his heaving breath he fell to the ground. He looked at the sky for the final time. Behind the glass of his oxygen mask, the burning meteor reflected.
Vaporizing the humans, the world ended.
***
In a land far away, beneath the eerie glow of a beautiful moon, blood splashed—the flowers that were white a moment ago now bore the color of crimson.
The man in heavy metal armor drove his iron sword into another man's neck. With some resistance, the bone cracked, and the blade slipped through the soft tissue. The man died the moment it pierced him.
After slamming the lifeless body to the ground, the armored man attempted to retrieve his weapon. But with the twist of broken bones, the damn thing was stuck.
He stomped his boot onto the face of the poor bastard as he yanked out the sword, one he had purchased with a month's worth of wages. As he pulled it free, a grotesque fountain of blood sprayed like it belonged to the king of underworld.
"Be careful, boy." A man with a fat jawline and receding hairline, wearing the same bloodstained armor, placed a bloodied hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, Captain. Sorry, sir. The bastard was screaming too much."
Behind them stood a group of caravan, which perhaps just moments ago belonging to the merchant party now slaughtered by them. Their corpses, along with the merchandise, now belonged to the bandits. Only a few children and women remained.
Children to be played with. And women to be played with too, but with a far crueler meaning.
"What do we do with these brats?" the armored man asked the fat one.
"Don't waste the edge of our blades. Damn iron costs more than the whores at Flower Mansion."
The armored man let out a guttural laugh. He barked orders to the others to pick up the half-broken ropes and signaled toward a large tree to hang the bastards there.
Then he walked toward the weeping women. One of them was the young and beautiful wife of the merchant to whom the caravan had once belonged.
"Tonight's gonna be a colorful one," he whispered, licking his dry, cracked lips.
His minions, laughing under the shadows, dragged broken ropes from the fallen wagons. With grinning malice, they grabbed the hair of children, no older than eight or ten.
One child in particular stood out. Red hair like a bornfire under a moonless night, an uncommon trait in this region. He was dragged, his head smashed into the dirt, his face scraped and bloodied. Not that it was better before.
They clutched his neck tightly, looped one end of the rope around a brittle branch, and fitted the other around his throat.
Tightening the rope around his neck, they pulled—hanging the boy in a cruel, clumsy execution. Then they left, retreating to their own wagon, where the screams of women pierced the entire night.
The boy dangled, thrashing like a fish out of water. But no help came. He struggled until his neck finally snapped. His body twitched as urine and feces spilled from him. He died.
By morning, the bandits had vanished, leaving behind heaps of what could barely be recognized as human bodies.
And as death and decay claimed the land, something unexpected occurred—life, unnatural and foreign, stirred into being.
The boy who had perished the night before suddenly convulsed with unmistakable vitality. He was alive again. But this time, the soul within him did not belong to the boy. It came from a world beyond this one.
As if answering a silent call, the frail branch snapped, and the boy plummeted to the earth. Though there was no stone below, he slammed his head into the ground. Blood gushed. He passed out.
Hours later, he awoke.
"Haah…"
The boy breathed heavily—for the first time, tasting fresh air, not the blackened fumes of his previous life. Regaining consciousness, he clutched his bleeding head tightly. Confusion swirled within him.
And then, finally, he spoke.
"Where the hell am I?"