"this world, angels and demons are locked in an eternal war, each driven by their own unyielding beliefs. The angels fight to preserve the fabric of reality itself, while the demons seek to twist it into a chaotic playground for their own amusement. Yet, time and again, the demons fail, overwhelmed by the unparalleled might of the angels.
This conflict began when Hell and Paradise were first forged—two realms born in opposition. Despite countless clashes, neither side could deliver the decisive blow to vanquish the other. Their struggle raged on endlessly, until the birth of Earth changed everything. Both angels and demons turned their gaze toward this new world, drawn to its core, brimming with an extraordinary concentration of life force.
In that moment, their purpose shifted. The angels swore to shield Earth, terrified that the demons might exploit its power and tip the balance of the war. To thwart this threat, the angels unleashed a sacred flame upon the world—a divine fire that gifted humanity with extraordinary abilities, defying the very laws of reality. This power came to be known as Prometeo.
For some, Prometeo is seen as a blessing from the heavens, a spark of divinity to guide humanity's destiny. For others, it is a curse—an unnatural force that shatters the order of existence."
In the hazy glow of twilight, a deserted plaza lay silent, save for the distant echo of soldiers' boots pounding the ground. Concealed in shadow, Pathos held his breath, praying his father's words would shield him:
"Wait. I'll come back for you."
But doubt gnawed at him. As the sounds faded, he slipped through the remnants of swirling dust, weaving past soldiers scanning the area, searching for him and his family. Every step he took was measured, careful, silent. When he finally reached the plaza's center, the sight that met him stopped his heart. His father's form lay lifeless on the cold stone.
«Pathos» Dad? Dad!
...fear...
He dropped to his knees beside him, shaking his father's shoulder, his voice trembling.
«Pathos» No, no, please! Dad, don't leave me! Dad?
Only silence answered.
...fear...
Tears mingled with raindrops, soaking into the earth. Cradling his father's head, Pathos felt grief and rage surge within him, threatening to consume him. He would find those responsible—he would make them pay.
A soft, trembling hand pressed weakly against his shoulder. Pathos gasped as his father's eyes fluttered open.
«Pathos» Dad! What happened? Who did this to you?
«Pathos's Father» You have to run.
«Pathos» No! I can't leave you here to die!
...Fear...
«Pathos's Father» My son... I don't have the strength to defend you anymore. You must take care of yourself. Listen to me.
Pathos's father coughed up blood as he tried to speak.
«Pathos's Father» North from here… there's a city where you can find a dear friend of mine. His name is Jhoel.
«Pathos» No! Please, I can't leave you here...
His father's lips curved into a faint, pained smile. Pathos can't bear to let go, his hands firmly gripping on his father's shoulders. But just like his muddied hands his heart was also desperately clinging to a feeling he will never forget, Hope.
«Pathos» I just need to find a doctor. You will be ok! you will be ok!
«Pathos's Father» Listen to me well, son… Find your mother and run as fast as you can without looking back. I will always...
He raised a shaking hand to Pathos's cheek, his voice fading to a whisper.
«Pathos's Father» …love you.
With those final words, his hand fell limp. Alone in the rain, as if time itself has stop, until Pathos screamed, his cry echoing across the empty plaza. His emotions overwhelm him as if he was drowning in an ocean of pain all he could feel was.
HATE
«Pathos» die-Die-DIE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU I'LL KILL YOU I'LL KILL YOU ALL!
Suddenly, a heavy raindrop struck his face entering from the socket of his eye's, burning like fire. He gasped, clutching his face as the searing sensation spread, pulsing deep within him. His body went still, collapsing over his father.
The clamor of boots returned, growing louder as soldiers converged on the plaza. They found Pathos motionless, bathed in the fading remnants of rain. The lightning seared through him—a scorching pain that wasn't just physical—it burned through his grief, his rage, his hope. Pathos's scream wasn't just a cry of agony, but a release, a declaration of the storm inside.
Tears streaming down his face, he turned to the soldiers who surrounded him. His body trembled as sparks of electricity crackled around him.
«Pathos (screaming)» DIE!
A deafening crack split the air as lightning exploded from Pathos's trembling form. The first soldier barely had time to scream before the bolt struck, hurling him backward. The others followed, their armor searing with white-hot energy as they crumpled to the ground. A second scream tore from his lips, thunderous and full of pain, as the storm within him erupted with every victim he took, could recall all the good memories he had about his father, a memory that can never be brought back. In just a few minutes, every soldier was defeated, one after another—their corpses left burning and resonating with bolts. Pathos stood among them, walking aimlessly through the dead.
He stopped near the body of a soldier immobilized under some rubble, his arm was completely broken with crimson blood gouging out of what's left of it, a face that was burned form the numerous bolts and his armor was melted with his own skin hurting him with his every move. But the soldier was still alive. His eye's tremble as he saw Pathos standing right next to him, out of desperation he reaches out.
«Soldier» Please… help me...
His voice was desperate. He reached out to his enemy in search of mercy. Pathos looked at him with disgust before reaching for the soldier's hand—but his own hand bypassed it, grabbing the cloak the soldier wore. Slowly, he pulled it off and put it on to shield himself from the rain.
«Soldier» Please! I have a family!
He wrapped the soldier's cloak around him—not for warmth, but to carry the weight of what he had done. Never breaking eye contact.
«Pathos» I had a family too. And it's because of you that I lost them.
«Soldier» Please...
Pathos gripped his teeth's his mind mixed with hate and pity both fighting with one another desperate to find a solution.
«Pathos» Why should I help you! Ah? My father is dead and you are....
Pathos grunted, his voice catching in his throat as he looked away.
Pathos kicks the rumble that was on top of the soldier freeing him. Without looking back he continued walking, his foot stomping into the wet mud. The cloak was in poor shape, but it was enough to shield him from the downpour.
«Soldier» Thank-you...
Pathos moved on, stepping over the corpses of innocent people the soldiers had killed without mercy—his friends, his family's friends. No one had survived.
«???» Pathos! Pathos!
A loud scream drew his attention. Someone was calling out for him—and when he turned, he saw his own mother desperate. She was in a carriage with some soldiers who had found her first. Her hands and legs were tied with cloth, and a soldier kept her restrained by holding it tight.
«Soldier» Hold still, you bitch!
«Pathos» Mother!
As Pathos called out to her, he ran toward the carriage, reaching out desperately—but something stopped him. The same burning sensation as before, only this time, it was greater. It overwhelmed him, making him collapse. He spoke in a weak voice:
«Pathos» Mot...her...
The carriage moved on, his mother's desperate cries fading as the rain swallowed them. Pathos never rose. His eyes stayed open, staring into the storm. Beneath them, something stirred—two faintly glowing eye sockets appeared. His eyes slowly closed—still fixed on the spot where the carriage had disappeared.
The sun rose again, and Pathos finally woke up. After regaining consciousness, without wasting a second he rose from the ground and quickly looked around for his missing mother.
«Pathos» Mother!
But nobody answered his call.
«Pathos» God!
Pathos punched the ground out of frustration.
«Pathos» It's all my fault...
A tear rolled down his cheek, and Pathos began to cry. He felt sorrow watching everything that he loved or cared gone with the span of a day his father was dead is mother was missing and everyone he knew was gone.
«Pathos» It's all because of me... I It's my fault... if I hadn't... if I hadn't gone... damn it!. It was because of me that we had to leave the village in fear.
He struck the ground once—hard enough to bleed—then stayed frozen, knuckles trembling in the dirt. he stared
«Pathos» Fat-her..sobs...
Moments later, he gently lowered the body of his father into a hole he had dug, covering it with dirt. Pathos's eyes were soulless. He didn't know what to feel in that moment—every possible emotion was twisted and tangled together. He dropped the first handful of dirt over him.
«Pathos» I promise i'm going to bring back Mom, Dad. After that, I'll do what you asked me. I'll try to live in peace—with myself... and with others.
He continued covering the body with wet dirt until the grave was filled. Then, putting on his new cloak covering his face, he finally left everything behind: the village, his father, his friends. Everything. As he made his way out of the village, he found a path leading north and followed it silently, without saying a word.
After the first hour of walking, a carriage passed by. The driver noticed the young Pathos and quickly pulled the reins.
«???» Whoa... whoa, wait there, girl.
The horse stopped and so did the carriage. Pathos noticed him but kept moving.
«???» Hey, kid! Need a ride?
«Pathos» No, thanks. I prefer to walk right now.
«???» You sure? The next city is at least 20 kilometers from here.
Pathos passed the driver and kept walking, ignoring him—until his stomach spoke louder.
«???» Come on in. We've got food, and we'll just give you a lift to your destination. How bad can it be, huh?
«Pathos» ...Alright.
Pathos turned around and entered the carriage from the back. He moved the curtains aside and found a lady sleeping inside. In a calm voice, the driver asked:
«???» May I ask you not to wake her, please? She's been in pain for a while now.
Pathos examined the woman and noticed her swollen belly.
«Pathos» She's pregnant?
«???» Yes, so please try to make as little noise as possible.
«Pathos» I will.
Pathos sat down softly, resting his back against the carriage wall. He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
«???» So, where are you headed, kid?
«Pathos» A city north of here...
«???» Ah, you mean Surres? That's perfect! We're headed there too.
The kind man started moving the carriage again. Pathos glanced at the pregnant lady, still sleeping.
«Pathos» Maybe we shouldn't talk.
«???» Nah, don't worry. My wife's a heavy sleeper—Voices are about the only thing that don't wake her.
«Pathos» I see.
«???» Anyway, my name's Francis, and my wife's name is Petra.
«Pathos» I'm Pathos. Pathos Raimei
«Francis» Pathos, huh? So, why were you traveling all alone?
Pathos opened his mouth, wanting to tell the truth—but decided against it.
«Pathos» I–I'm just visiting someone. That's all.
«Francis» You sure that's all? Your clothes are covered in mud, and judging by your voice, you don't sound...happy.
«Pathos» Got attacked by wolves. I fought back and ended up in a pile of mud.
Francis however, wasn't convinced, with a quick examination of his body he noticed multiple cuts on his cloth not from fangs or claws. He didn't push further.
«Francis» Mhm... But don't you think your mother and father are worried about you?
A brief silence filled the air before Pathos spoke again.
«Pathos» Yes...They probably are
Pathos's stomach growled again. Francis noticed and quickly rubbed the back of his head filling in Sorry
«Francis» Ah! Sorry sorry, I got caught up in our conversation and forgot to offer you something to eat.
He turned and pointed to a sack near Pathos.
«Francis» In that bag, there are some fruits. Help yourself out.
«Pathos» Thank you.
«Francis» Don't mention it. I couldn't leave a kid alone to starve.
Pathos opened the sack, rummaging through it until he picked out an apple. His teeth sank into the apple, tearing through its crisp skin. Its taste was sweet and fresh.
«Pathos» Wow...
«Francis» Good, huh? Picked them just this morning. Nothing beats that kind of fresh.
Pathos spoke, his voice still sad and broken.
«Pathos» It's amazing...
«Francis» Eat as much as you'd like. Just save some for ourselves too.
Francis let out a soft chuckle. Pathos continued eating until His fingers brushed over a raised stitching—an emblem, weathered by time but unmistakable. He brought it closer to inspect it his eyes shining with hope, then turned to Francis.
«Pathos» This emblem...Do you know where this mark is from?
«Francis» Hmm... Let me see.
Pathos walked over and showed him the mark.
«Francis» Oh yeah, that's the symbol of the soldiers from Arieste.
«Pathos (thinking)» Arieste... the city right next to where we used to live...
«Francis» Was your father part of an army, maybe?
«Pathos» No... Yes. When I started this journey, I brought the cloak with me to shield myself from the rain.
«Francis» Ah, I see. Is that where you're headed next?
«Pathos» Yes. Thank you for the information.
«Francis» My pleasure, kid.
Pathos quietly sat back down, inspecting the mark once more. Finally he had a clue, the murder's of his father where finally discovered and all he feel was pure revenge.
«Pathos (thinking)» So... Arieste.
He clutched the cloak tighter, knuckles white, as if gripping the memory of his father itself.
«Pathos (thinking)» They'll pay for every drop of blood they spilled. And I swear to you, Mother... no matter what it takes—I will bring you back.
A flicker of electricity passes in between his finger's wanting revenge