The cicadas' cries echoed sharply through the dense trees, like a scream that refused to end.
At the peak of a hill, someone leaned against the trunk of an ancient tree whose roots clawed into the rocky earth. A gentle wind stirred, swaying the dry grass around him.
In his hand was a worn map, its corners torn by time. His gaze was fixed on the fading lines, as if searching for something hidden behind the dying ink.
Yet it was difficult to call him merely "someone."
His entire body was encased in jet-black full plate armor. Its surface was dull, marred by countless battle scars that had never been polished away. There was no crest. No insignia. No identity. From a distance, he looked less like a man and more like a shadow that refused to fade in the light of dusk.
Beneath the darkening evening sky, the figure remained still—as though the world itself were waiting for his next move.
Before him lay a city.
It was surrounded by a vast forest stretching toward distant gray mountain ranges. Thin trails of smoke rose lazily from the chimneys into the evening air.
"Liora City… so this is the place."
He folded the map carefully, as though it were more fragile than the city he was observing.
Then the wind suddenly changed direction.
A powerful gust swept in from behind him, forcing the trees to bow low.
Not mountain wind.
A red dragon soared across the sky, its massive wings tearing through the air. Its scales glowed like embers that would never fade, and hunger burned within its eyes.
Its course was clear—
It was heading straight for Liora City.
"A fire dragon?" he muttered quietly. "Is there a nest nearby…?"
He fell silent for a moment.
"I know I shouldn't interfere."
His voice was flat. Nearly devoid of emotion.
"But it would be inconvenient if my destination were destroyed before I arrive."
He raised his right hand.
His fingers trembled faintly.
"Casting: Area-of-Effect Skill…"
The air around him froze.
A thin layer of frost formed over the grass despite the lingering sun. A cold white aura wrapped around his body—not warm like holy light, but frigid, like the glow of a dead star.
And for a brief moment…
It felt as though the sky itself was staring back at him.
The evening sky darkened.
But not because of dusk.
"Comet."
A colossal shadow appeared above the flying red dragon—a massive object descending from the heavens without a sound, cleaving through the clouds in oppressive silence.
The dragon roared and spewed flames upward.
Scarlet fire lashed against the surface of the falling mass—
But the attack did not leave even a mark.
It struck.
A blinding flash swallowed the sky.
Yet there was no sound.
No explosion.
Only an unnatural emptiness.
A few seconds later, the man snapped his fingers.
Cracks spread through the air like invisible glass shattering.
The dragon's body froze midair. Its scales dulled. Its wings stopped beating.
Then—crack.
It shattered.
Not into burning flesh.
Not into ash.
But into shimmering white fragments like snow.
The particles drifted downward.
Falling upon the forest.
Falling upon Liora City.
—
Below, a bird touched by the fragments instantly froze and dropped from its branch.
A small child looking up felt a white speck land on her cheek. She smiled, thinking it was snow—
Seconds later, the skin on her cheek paled like marble.
—
From the hilltop, the man watched the white rain with an expressionless gaze.
"Ah…"
He rubbed his temple—a reflex from the days when he still possessed nerves capable of feeling headaches.
"This… was excessive."
His helmet came off with a faint metallic sound. Yet beneath it there was no face, no skin, no eyes.
Only dense black mist swirling slowly within the hollow of the armor—connected deep into its core, like smoke trapped inside a cage of steel.
He was a being now known by a single name:
Living Armor.
The sky that had been torn apart by the falling celestial mass gradually calmed. Clouds drifted back into place, sealing the wound in the horizon as though nothing had happened.
But far above—
Something had opened its eyes.
And he knew.
That gaze had found him again.
He stood silent for a moment, then let out a quiet breath.
Not because he needed to—but out of habit, from when he was still human.
"To think…" he murmured softly, his voice echoing within the empty space of his armor.
"The world I created from a pixel game… has truly become real."
The hilltop wind blew cold as he began walking down toward Liora City, his black silhouette stretching long beneath the fading light.
Behind him, the cicadas began to cry once more.
But this time, their buzzing no longer sounded like a summer song—
It sounded like mourning.