For hundreds of years, the Demon race has always been the eternal enemy of humankind.
They do not understand good or evil—only the pure instinct to destroy everything.
Every time they appeared, disaster inevitably followed. No one knew when or how the demons would come. They always emerged suddenly, opening portals from their world into the realm of humans, then spreading destruction wherever they passed.
The rulers of the world, who once fought each other for power and territory, finally found a common enemy. Humans—creatures known for their greed—realized the threat looming over their world. To survive, they united with one purpose: to eradicate the threat of annihilation.
Sun Calendar Year 781.
A great war erupted that changed the face of the world. The demons invaded relentlessly, killing, plundering, and seizing every inch of human land until only one main continent remained—the last fortress of humankind.
It was an age of darkness.
But in the year 801, the Goddess of Light awakened from her slumber.
She bestowed a blessing upon humanity: magic to purify the darkness.
Light magic.
With that power, humanity rose again.
The element of light proved far more effective against demons than any other type of magic. Through long years steeped in blood, humanity slowly reclaimed their homeland.
And in the year 874, on the main continent of Aisa, a baby boy was born—opening his eyes for the first time in a world still covered in wounds.
*****
On an autumn afternoon, as leaves drifted softly to the ground, I sat leaning against a large tree in the garden behind the grand church in Arcadia's western district—where I served with the Paladin unit.
At that time, it had been about seven months since I had joined.
My left shoulder and right arm were wrapped in white bandages, with blood still seeping through the bandage on my right arm. My breathing was heavy but steady, following the calm rhythm of the evening wind.
As I stared blankly at the sky, footsteps sounded behind me. Leaves fell around me, swirling softly in the breeze.
The footsteps stopped. A clear, firm voice sounded beside me.
"What are you doing, Adrian?"
I turned. There stood a silver-haired girl with her arms crossed, staring at me with a sharp gaze.
"You're injured, you know? I searched everywhere for you. Why are you hiding here? You should be recovering in the treatment room."
She lowered her gaze, looking down at me. In her shimmering blue eyes, my exhausted face was reflected clearly.
Seeing Alicia with such a stern expression made my heart tremble a little.
Honestly, I didn't want to talk.
But under that gaze, I knew hiding anything from her was pointless.
If I didn't answer, she would keep staring until I gave in.
Turning my face away, I answered slowly.
"I... I just feel useless. Not only did I fail to kill the Rank B demon, I even got injured and let them escape."
A Rank B demon was equal to a Rank Six human.
Lifting my head to look at her again, I forced a self-mocking smile.
"I'm truly pathetic, aren't I?"
I was Rank Six as well, yet I still failed.
Alicia didn't respond immediately, nor did she force me to return for treatment.
She simply looked at me for a moment in silence, then walked around the tree and sat down behind it.
Several quiet moments passed between us.
Leaves fell again, as if mourning my misfortune.
The leaves drifted, carried by the warm evening wind.
A few moments later, Alicia finally spoke.
"You know," she said, "I often feel like a failure too—like I'm useless, or that I'm not good enough. But I keep trying. I always remember what the head priest who raised me used to say: 'Even the most beautiful flower in the world needs time to grow, even if it is planted in the best soil.' It means time is never wasted—you just haven't seen the results yet."
She paused for a moment, then continued in a softer tone.
"I was an orphan left at the front of a monastery, so the head priest's words have always stayed with me. That's why I keep fighting. Even if I fail, I won't give up."
It was the first time I had heard anything about her past.
Hearing her words made me feel… connected.
I too was an orphan. But compared to Alicia, I had been luckier—my grandparents had still been able to raise me when I was a child.
The warm sunlight of the late afternoon fell across my face, making me squint. Leaves drifted down, birds chirped, and the sky slowly turned crimson.
After a while, I heard the rustle of leaves behind me.
Alicia approached and sat right beside me.
She looked into my eyes, her gaze softening. A faint smile curved her cherry-red lips.
"Don't give up, Adrian."
Her voice grew even gentler, almost like a whisper.
My gaze was locked onto hers. I couldn't look away. In the glimmer of her eyes, the sunlight reflected—beautiful and mesmerizing.
"It's okay if today you're not doing well. The world can indeed feel unfair… But the world isn't only about today. So take another step forward and keep fighting. You can still rewrite your story tomorrow."
Then she smiled even wider, extending her hand to me.
"Don't let one bad day make you forget how strong you've been all this time."
I froze, utterly motionless.
Her words echoed in my heart. They made it tremble, warmed by the tenderness she carried. The pain and regret slowly subsided, replaced by a fragile hope for an unknown future.
The light was still the same.
Just like when she saved me in the past, she reached out her hand to me again.
How much her words saved me…
How deeply I longed for that warmth to stay with me forever.
My hand trembled, as if it reflected my soul.
Slowly, I grasped her hand—a soft, delicate hand, as though it had never held a weapon.
Alicia smiled again.
"See? That alone is already your first step."
Her beautiful voice echoed in my ears, my heart, even my soul.
How I wished that beautiful moment could last forever—bright and warm, illuminating my dark life. But sadly, that light has now sunk. Faded. Vanished.
All that remains are memories.
Memories so beautiful, yet so painfully distant.
Now, all I can do is remember those times of happiness—fighting against the loneliness that eats away at me.
Yet ironically, the cause of the deepest pain… is the most beautiful memory.