Veol was in the backyard, playing alone with his wooden sword. His parents were at the market, buying fruits and vegetables.
He swung the blade again and again, each motion sharp yet silent. Unlike other children, Veol never joined noisy games. His world was one of quiet practice and books.
That was when the light dimmed.
He froze mid-swing, gaze drifting upward. A vast shadow crawled across the kingdom, smothering the warmth of the sun.
"…Is this really happening?" His whisper trembled in the empty yard. "What is that thing covering the sun?"
The sky darkened further, until light itself seemed to vanish. Then, with dreadful stillness, an entity descended from the heavens—a being whose body resembled the endless void of space.
Its voice resonated across the kingdom, calm yet heavy with unfathomable weight.
"Ah… so this is what it looks like in this possibility. Not bad. The timeline seems torn from point to point… still, acceptable. People of Fhiola—do not gaze upon my true form. This is not a request, but for your own good. Those who do will be burned by the flames of hell."
The warning alone was enough. Citizens collapsed to their knees, pressing foreheads to the ground. Their souls screamed in terror, urging them not to look.
But arrogance always exists.
A man in the street shouted toward the sky, though his eyes never lifted.
"Who are you to order us? Some god? If so, stop blocking the sun! My crops are dying. Or will you pay for my harvest, bastard?"
His trembling body betrayed the truth.
The entity chuckled.
"No, I am no god. My name is Crest. If you want the sun returned, then you—the one who spoke—may look directly upon me."
Against his better judgment, the man lifted his gaze. In the next instant, nothing remained. Not ashes. Not bones.
Crest's star-filled body tilted downward, his attention settling on a single child. Slowly, he descended until he hovered above Veol.
"What is your name?" Crest asked.
The boy's lips moved faintly. "…Veol. Veol Windlock."
From a distance, Bert and Krim had just returned from the market. They froze in horror at the sight of the entity before their son. Dropping everything, they sprinted toward the house.
"Can you talk with him?" Crest asked again, eyes narrowing.
"…With whom?" Veol whispered back.
"Can you talk with—"
Before he could finish, Bert threw himself between Crest and the boy.
"If my son has done anything to anger you, please forgive him!" Bert pleaded desperately. "Punish me instead. He's only a child!"
Krim's voice cracked behind him, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Please… spare him!"
For a moment, Crest smiled—a wide, terrifying expression.
"Your son has indeed angered me. I will punish him with eternal pain and suffering. But even that feels… insufficient. Perhaps I should destroy this entire kingdom as well."
Panic erupted. Everywhere, people begged and wailed for mercy.
Then Crest laughed, his form shrinking into the shape of a human man.
"Kidding."
Relief washed over the city. Citizens rose shakily to their feet. Krim and Bert clutched each other, trembling with gratitude.
But in the next instant, their bodies jerked unnaturally—then their heads snapped skyward. Blood sprayed the earth.
Only Veol remained standing, frozen in shock. His wooden sword slipped from his fingers. His lips quivered.
"…Why?"
Crest said nothing, only watched him with an unreadable smile.
For the first time, Veol dared to raise his eyes. He looked directly into Crest's human form—those abyssal eyes staring back. Yet nothing happened. His body didn't burn. His soul didn't wither.
Realization struck him. He grasped his sword again, knuckles white. With a strangled cry, he hurled himself forward, swinging with every ounce of strength.
The blade cut clean through Crest's chest.
But instead of blood, Veol felt agony tear through his own body. A sharp pain split his stomach, warm liquid spilling down his side. Staggering, he gasped, voice hoarse.
"How? I cut you—so why am I the one bleeding?"
Crest's smile widened, his voice soft and amused.
"Next time, answer me honestly. All hail the Supreme One."
And then he vanished.
Veol collapsed to his knees, clutching his wound. His vision blurred as he screamed into the night.
"No matter where you go—I will find you! I will make you suffer until even death rejects you!"
The world faded to black.
In the royal palace, the king and his strongest mages had felt the instant Crest appeared. His presence alone forced even Inferno-tier warriors to their knees. Yet by the time the Head Mage, Oreq, reached the capital, silence reigned.
Bodies filled the streets. Blood stained the stones. And among the corpses… a boy still breathed.
Oreq's eyes widened.
"…How? How is he alive?"
He rushed forward, lifting Veol carefully.
This power… this massacre… and only this child remains?
Mounting his flying staff, Oreq carried Veol to the palace to be healed. As he treated the boy's wounds, Veol stirred awake. His eyes snapped open in panic.
"Who are you? Where is that monster?!"
Oreq hesitated. "…Monster?"
Through pale lips, Veol explained what had happened. His face never twisted in rage, nor did tears fall. He spoke plainly, as though recounting someone else's story.
Oreq listened silently, troubled.
Crest… I've heard that name before. But most importantly, this child must survive.
Yet Veol sat silent, unmoved. Not a tear. Not a cry. Oreq's concern deepened.
His parents were slaughtered before his eyes. And yet, he doesn't weep. How can a boy be so calm… so hollow?
By the time Veol finished, the towering walls of Elirion, one of the five great kingdoms of Elix, came into view.
Oreq handed the boy to his trusted friend Azec, a priest of the Nine Gods.
The boy was taken to the sacred temple, where nine colossal statues loomed over a glowing orb sealed in glass. Veol's eyes lingered on them with unusual interest.
Azec smiled gently. "Rest for now, child. I'll explain everything tonight."
But before he could, another priest rushed in, whispering urgently. Azec's expression darkened. He hurried to the orb, touching the glass—then vanished in an instant.
Veol blinked, wide-eyed. The temple fell silent.
Slowly, he turned back to the statues. Four stood on the right, four on the left. But behind the orb… a ninth statue, broken at the upper half.
Alone once again, Veol stepped closer, his gaze fixed upon that shattered god.