Too Many Losing Heroes
The heavens are heartless, treating all living beings as mere chess pieces in a grand, indifferent game.
Under the vast sky, the illusion of the virtuous facade path is built on a foundation of hypocrisy and whispers. A solitary soul, branded by a grotesque scar he cannot remember, learns this truth the hard way. When he reaches out to save a falling life, the world rewards his limitless kindness with venomous accusations. Betrayed by the very society he protected, he realizes a profound truth: if one does not carve their own destiny, the world will force a mask upon them. Discarding the heavy chains of morality, he willingly steps into the abyss, embracing the demonic path, choosing to become the ultimate villain on his own terms.
Elsewhere, the winds of fate prove exceptionally cruel, mocking the concept of fairness. A mediocre scribe reaps the spoils of unearned luck, drowning in the shallow applause of the masses, while a peerless, pure talent is betrayed and swallowed by the shadows. The scribe is left to rot from the inside out, haunted by his own inadequacy, watching as childhood bonds are severed by the glittering, poisonous allure of fame and vanity.
Karmic threads tangle and snap. Blood stains the asphalt, washing away precious memories, leaving broken souls to desperately piece together their shattered existence. Even those who stand bathed in the radiant light of public worship—golden idols who smile for the masses—are nothing but gears in a ruthless, mechanical struggle for survival, moving meticulously through the storms of ambition.
In this cruel mortal realm, effort is an illusion, love is a fragile liability, and talent is easily crushed by the grinding wheel of fate. Beneath the unfeeling heavens, there is no true justice and no ultimate victor. There are only hypocrites wearing virtuous masks, monsters born from despair, and fools struggling in the mud.
In this tragic, endless play, there are simply too many losing heroes.
