In the distant past. an era now remembered only for its wars. humans committed all kinds of sins against each other and the world itself. Greed scorched the skies, hatred fractured nations, and indifference let the seas rise and the forests burn. Over the centuries, these sins accumulated in the collective soul of humanity, a weight pressing down on the world, a poison seeping into the very ley lines of the planet.
This culminated in the year 2050, when a cosmic accident occurred: an asteroid struck Earth. It was no ordinary rock from space; it was a punishment from the god, devastating the planet and killing more than half of humanity instantly. The skies turned to fire, and the Earth itself seemed to scream.
But strangely, the aftermath didn't follow scientific predictions of nuclear winter or slow extinction.
What followed was far worse: the Sins. the accumulated corruption of millennia—were given form and function. A new law was written into reality: every child born after the asteroid, upon reaching the age of eight, would unlock a sin. a power born from human flaws. If one could not confront and master it, the sin would devour their soul, twisting them into a demon.
The centuries after the impact became a new Dark Age. Society fractured into fortified enclaves and wandering caravans. Humans, scarred and terrified, continued to commit sins; in their fear and struggle to survive, they fed the very cycle threatening to destroy them.
Those who walked the razor's edge between mastery and damnation became essential in our aura. They were protectors, soldiers, and our greatest fear, for a single moment of weakness could turn a guardian into the very monster they fought.
Thanks to the blood and resolve of those who came before, humanity learned to survive in a world built on ruin. Schools were created not just to teach letters and numbers, but to forge minds strong enough to stand against their own Sin.
I looked at my mother, who was telling me the history of Earth. Sunlight reflected off the glass, scattering across the room, and the scent of the plants filled the air as if they had just been watered. She had the same warm smile she always did.
I asked her, "Mama, will I be able to control my sin? Will I become a demon like the children in the past?"
She closed the book she was reading, its cover embossed with the symbol of a balanced scale, and lifted me into her arms. The faint scent of lily flowers always made me feel safe.
"Roy, you are a Carver. Your bloodline is one of will and creation. No sin could ever defeat you. After all, don't you want to be strong like Odin, who wields the legendary spear Gungnir, or like Zeus and Athena from the old myths?" she said in a warm, encouraging voice.
"Yes, Mama," I said, my small chest swelling with determination. "I'll work hard to be like them."
She smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead. "Hard work is important, Roy, but it doesn't always guarantee success. Sometimes you need a little luck too."
.
.
My life was happy and secure within our home until I was six years and eight months old. That was when I started having dreams of the stories Mom told me. But the myths began to twist, and the landscapes of my mind became a testing ground for horrors yet to come.
At first, it was just an illusion, vanishing whenever I got close. But it kept growing more real, until one day a demon stood before me.
Its arm stretched out until it closed around my throat. I struggled, gasping to free myself. Just as I felt I was about to give up, I wished for more power to fight back. Suddenly, the same arms that had been powerless surged with strength, breaking the demon's grasp.
In that moment, I realized that in dreams, I could be strong.
And when I wished for more strength to drive the demon away, a gust of ethereal force answered me, hurling the creature back. When I awoke, gasping, a thin, bleeding cut ran across my neck, and the bed was soaked with blood.
I still remember the look of horror on my mother's face, the way her hands trembled as she called upon her sin, her aura flaring with a panicked, golden light.
The dreams grew worse every day. I woke with new wounds: claw marks on my arms, burns on my legs. My mother stayed up nights beside me, healing me every time. My father tried everything—healing spells, aura-based protection charms, even hypnosis. but nothing worked.
When my father finally checked my sin, it was still dormant. This connection to the dream world was something else entirely, something unknown.
"Everything changed when I turned seven."
I dreamed I was in a wheat field, stretching as far as the eye could see. I spotted Alice running through the stalks.
"Roy, follow me! The fields are beautiful!" she called.
I ran after her, just like we used to in our garden at home. Time flew until we collapsed onto the soft ground, breathing heavily.
Alice turned to me, smiling. "So… even in dreams you get tir….." Her words broke off.
A shadow fell across her. A demon loomed above, as if it had been waiting for this moment. Its eyes gleamed with cruel intelligence, faster and sharper than any I had faced.
I teleported in front of Alice, spear in hand, ready to defend her. But I could see in its eyes. its true target was her.
I swung with all my strength to sever its arm, but the spear passed through as if it didn't belong to this world. Then it moved faster than ever.
"No! Stop!" I screamed.
Its claws flashed, raking across Alice's small body. A deep gash opened in her stomach, crimson blooming across the golden field.
I attacked again, but the spear passed through, and the demon vanished. I turned to Alice. Her body lay lifeless.
"Alice! You can hear me, right? Right, Alice?" My voice cracked. Words broke into sobs until I could no longer speak.
Then I remembered. it was only a dream. Relief washed over me. "This is a dream… a nightmare! I need to wake up, fast!"
I woke to find Alice cold and lifeless beside me. The wound from my dream was real.
I held my head, feeling my world collapse. "This is still a dream! I'm still inside it! I need to wake up!"
Then the world shifted. A sound like tearing ripped through reality, and vertigo hit me as if the dream and waking worlds had swapped places.
Running footsteps echoed. My mother burst through the door, still half-asleep, only to see the bed stained with blood. She pressed her hands to Alice's wound, but it was already too late.
"Alice! My daughter!" she cried. Her hands glowed with frantic green light, but it was no use. The soul was already gone.
Frozen in shock, she saw the same demon from my dream appear. It lunged at her, severing her hand before she could react. I threw myself between them, but its claws passed through me as if I didn't belong to its world.
"Noooo!" I screamed.
Its strike pierced my mother's chest, through her heart, and she fell dead.
The demon looked at me as if I were an ant, then vanished.
I stood in shock, staring at their lifeless bodies. I stumbled closer to my mother, refusing to accept reality.
"Mama," I whispered, trying to shake her. My arms passed through her body. That was the last thing I remembered.