The world was not a place where innocent souls survived.
It was a prison.
A vast, suffocating cage.
Yet a beautiful one.
The boy understood that now.
He knelt on the muddy ground, his breathing shallow, blood dripping slowly from the wound at his temple. The crimson trickled down his face and blurred his vision, painting the world in shades of dull red.
He was a wreck, a broken thing.
He was surrounded by what remained of the slaughter.
Broken weapons.
Shattered armor.
Blood splattered everywhere.
And the remains of his comrades.
Some were dead others barely hanging on, as the last fragment of life abandoned them. Yet they still wore smiles on their faces.
The air carried the familiar metallic scent.
His lips were damp with a mouthful of copper-tasting blood.
He lowered his gaze below.
Life was gushing out of him through a pierced hole in his heart.
Stomach was burrowed inside, like that of a hungry beggar.
His hands were thick with calluses, limbs were a canvas of bruises.
His fingers trembled slightly as they pressed against the wound on his abdomen. The blood seeping between fingers was warm, almost comforting.
'So this is the end…'
The thought came calmly.
Too calmly.
Strangely, he did not feel fear.
Only exhaustion.
A deep, gnawing fatigue that had settled into his bones long before this battle had begun.
The world he knew was a nothing but rusted metal and cold ash.
Slowly, painfully, he lifted his head.
Each vertebra in his neck grinding like rusted gears.
The horizon felt like a cruel joke to him.
Beyond the battlefield, the world opened into a vast valley, bathed in orange light.
The sky burned with the colors of a dying sunset.
Clouds catching the radiance of a sun drifted lazily across the horizon, as if the heavens themselves were unaware of the slaughter that had taken place below.
At the center of that radiant horizon stood a distant castle.
A jagged silhouette of ivory stone and thin spires.
Those white towers stood sharp against the sky like embedded spears.
The Castle was clean, kissed by a thousand years of wind.
Its foundation wrapped in a ghostly white veil of mist that rose from water surrounding it like the spirits of the innocent, finally at rest.
The entire structure seemed to glow from within, a beacon of warmth that felt mocking to him whose heart had long turned to ash.
Below, the river was a vein of molten lava. It was a vast, shimmering ribbon that reflected the sky like it was a mirror of pure glass.
It was so perfect that it was impossible to tell where the earth ended and the heaven began.
The stone bridge arched its back like a silent sentinel, connecting a path to a sanctuary.
A shimmering veil draped over the world's rot.
From where he knelt, it looked almost… peaceful.
Beautiful.
Unbelievably so.
He stared at it in silence.
His eyes were dull, drained of emotion, yet they refused to look away.
For a moment, he almost laughed.
'How ironic.'
The world he knew had always been cruel.
A place where kindness was a weakness.
Where obedience chained people more tightly than cuffs ever could.
Yet now, as his life slipped away beneath this golden sky, the world had chosen to look so… perfect.
So perfect that it made him think that this radiant, untouchable paradise was the beautiful mask the prison wore to hide its teeth.
The prison was the beauty he could see, but could never hold.
He thought of the life he had lived, and thought.
'What makes us truly alive?'
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Heavy.
Measured.
Someone approached.
The boy didn't turn around.
He didn't need to.
The several had already surrounded him.
A figure stepped forward.
The man's armor gleamed faintly in the dying sunlight. A cloak embroidered with royal insignia fluttered softly behind him.
When he spoke, his voice was low and almost… regretful.
"Such a pity."
Boy remained silent.
Then the man looked down at the boy on his knees.
Man continued.
"You possessed remarkable talent. If fate had been kinder... perhaps your name would have stood among the great heroes of Aethelgard."
A brief pause.
"But the world has no place for misfits."
The boy finally lifted his gaze.
For the first time since the battle ended, something stirred behind his dull eyes.
Not anger.
Not despair.
Just quiet understanding.
Of course.
He had known this day would come eventually.
After all…
He was a visionary.
The man resting his hand on the hilt of his sword sighed softly.
"This kingdom is but a minor power among the great realm." He said.
"Truly a pity, you had a talent boy. But in this world, talent is just a prettier word for a tool."
He didn't look at the horizon. He didn't look at the sky. He only looked at the mud on his boots.
"You're just the grit under a boot. To them, you're not even a memory."
"You're just a tool that finally snapped."
The sword slid from its sheath.
A whisper of steel against leather.
The sound of an ending.
Steel flashed.
The distant figures tightened their circle.
The boy watched the blade rise slowly above his head.
His vision had begun to fade.
The golden sky blurred.
The castle melted into the horizon.
Strangely, the only thing he could think about was the question that had haunted him his entire life.
Why was it so difficult…
Just to live?
He didn't have a contented expression like his comrades. His face was devoid of emotions and hope, but he felt no fear again.
His lips moved.
A faint whisper escaped him. In a ghostly voice.
"The dawn…"
The sword began to fall.
"…never came."
And the world went dark.
******
Edge of a small city.
Night.
The office was a different kind of trench.
A man who looked like in his late twenties walked slowly down an empty street, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
Rihito Takasuki had long since stopped paying attention to the city around him.
The neon lights.
The passing cars.
The endless crowds of strangers rushing home.
All of it had become background noise.
His body felt heavy.
Each step felt like dragging his leaden feet through deep mud.
'I'm tired…'
He adjusted the strap of his worn bag and continued walking.
After nearly an hour, he finally reached the apartment building.
It was small.
Old.
The walls were stained with years of rain and neglect, and the narrow staircase creaked under his weight as he climbed toward the second floor.
Three rooms.
That was all the building had.
His room was the one in the far corner.
The cheapest.
Inside, the room was barely larger than ten square meters.
There was no color. No decoration.
A narrow bed.
A small table.
A stack of books.
Nothing else.
Rihito stepped inside and quietly closed the door.
In the foyer table sat a small snow globe. Inside, a little doll in a red scarf stood stranded next to an igloo, a small plastic monument to being alone."
It sat there gathering dust, a hollow little world under glass.
Step, step...
He entered the room.
The room was dark.
He didn't bother turning on the lights.
Instead, he slowly slid down against the side of the bed and sat on the floor.
The city lights outside flickered through the big glass window.
For a moment, they almost looked like distant stars.
Rihito stared at them blankly.
Neon flickers shimmered across his face.
His face looked hollow in the glass, his stomach twisting with a dull, familiar ache.
He hadn't eaten more than bread crumbs in two days.
The paycheck he had been promised never came.
It was the final punchline to a lifelong joke.
His manager had simply laughed.
"Maybe next week."
Next week.
He let out a faint breath.
'Figures.'
It had always been like this.
At home.
At school.
At work.
He is a polite prisoner of expectations.
He has become so timid he was afraid of failure.
He had spent his entire life trying to avoid disappointing people.
Even those who exploited him.
Listening.
Obeying.
Smiling politely.
Even when it hurts.
Especially when it hurt.
His parents had made every decision for him.
What to study.
Where to go.
Who to become.
They paved his path.
They drove him everywhere he needed to go.
But they had never let him learn to walk.
And when he finally stepped into the world alone…
The world simply devoured him.
His colleagues were parasites who feasted on his softness.
Only within these four walls had he felt free.
Rihito leaned his head back against the bed.
His vision blurred.
Oddly, he didn't feel sad.
Just… empty.
After a while, he whispered quietly to himself.
"Maybe…"
His voice cracked.
"…maybe it's okay."
He was finally escaping the prison.
Outside, the wind began to rise.
Leaves rustled against the window.
The city lights flickered.
Rihito slowly closed his eyes.
And for the first time in a long, long time…
His mind finally grew quiet.
Silence filled the small apartment.
The city outside continued moving as if nothing had changed.
Cars passed.
Voices echoed faintly in the far distance.
Somewhere far below, a train rattled across its tracks.
But inside the small room, everything was still.
Rihito Takasuki sat slumped against the side of his bed.
His breathing had grown slow.
Shallow.
Each breath felt heavier than the last.
The hunger that had gnawed at his stomach for days had long since faded. In its place was a strange numbness spreading through his limbs.
His fingers trembled weakly as they rested on the floor.
For a moment, he tried to move them.
They barely responded.
'So this is how it ends…'
The thought drifted through his fading consciousness.
Oddly, he felt no panic.
No anger.
Only a quiet acceptance.
After all, he had already lost the strength to fight long ago.
His gaze slowly lifted toward the window.
The city lights shimmered beyond the glass, blinking like distant constellations in the night.
They looked beautiful.
Distant.
Untouchable.
Rihito stared at them silently.
For a moment, an old memory surfaced.
He was a child again.
Standing beside his parents while watching fireworks burst across the summer sky.
Back then, he had believed life would be full of possibilities.
Back then, he had believed that effort would lead somewhere.
A faint smile touched his lips.
'What a naive kid…'
The memory faded.
Darkness crept slowly into the edges of his vision.
His body felt cold.
Heavy.
The room seemed to stretch farther away from him with every passing second.
The glass of water sitting on the small table suddenly looked impossibly distant.
Even lifting his arm toward it felt like an impossible task.
But oddly enough…
He felt peaceful.
He was at peace.
For the first time in years, the tight knot inside his chest had loosened.
No expectations.
No pressure.
No need to apologize for existing.
Just quiet.
'Maybe… this isn't so bad.'
The wind outside grew stronger.
The curtains fluttered gently as the window was slightly open.
Leaves rustled somewhere in the darkness.
Then something appeared.
At first, it looked like a reflection.
A small shape drifting outside the window.
Soft.
White.
Weightless.
Rihito blinked slowly.
The thing floating beyond the glass looked like a tiny sphere of snow-white fluff.
It hovered silently in the air, moving lazily as if carried by an invisible current.
Each strand of its fur shimmered faintly in the neon light of the city.
A warm golden glow surrounded its small body, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
It looked almost unreal.
Like a fragment of a dream that had wandered into the wrong world.
But what caught Rihito's attention the most were its eyes.
Large.
Round.
Violet.
They shimmered gently as they gazed at him through the window.
There was no fear in those eyes.
No judgment.
Only quiet curiosity.
The small creature tilted its head slightly.
As if studying him.
Rihito stared back weakly.
For a moment, he wondered if his starving brain had begun hallucinating.
'…What is that?'
The creature slowly drifted closer.
The glass wall between them did nothing to stop it.
Without making a sound, the tiny puffball passed through the window as if it were made of mist.
Now it hovered above the small table.
The golden glow around it illuminated the dark room with a gentle warmth.
It looked around curiously.
Then its gaze returned to Rihito.
Rihito blinked slowly.
His lips moved faintly.
"cute…"
The puffball drifted closer.
It circled around him once.
Twice.
As if inspecting him.
Then it floated down beside his face.
Rihito tried to raise his hand.
Just once.
He wanted to touch the strange creature.
To feel if it was real.
But his arm refused to move.
His strength had finally run out.
His hand fell limply back to the floor.
The puffball watched him quietly.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then the tiny creature gently pressed itself against his cheek.
Warm.
Soft.
Comforting.
At that exact moment something stirred.
A faint glow began to emerge from Rihito's body.
Thin strands of pale light slowly drifted upward from his chest.
Like mist rising from still water.
The puffball blinked.
The strands gathered together above the boy's head.
Forming something fragile.
Something delicate.
A soul.
Rihito Takasuki took his final breath.
And then...
Everything stopped.
The glowing soul hovered silently for a moment.
Then it slowly began to rise.
Passing through the ceiling.
Through the building.
Through the sky.
Higher.
Higher.
Above the restless city.
Above the drifting clouds.
The puffball followed.
For a brief moment, the soul shimmered brightly beneath the vast night sky.
The world was waking up to a storm that didn't belong to it.
Looking down the crumbling apartment building.
Besides it stood ancient giant trees, their massive limbs thrashing against the sky.
They didn't just sway, they leaned hard towards the forest.
Their leaves whipped. It was a violent, singular wind.
Pressure that felt less like weather and more like a rejection.
A figure stood in the center of the chaos.
It was a shimmering soul.
Wind simply passed through it.
It had no shadow.
It simply existed.
Then, with a silent ripple.
It vanished.
As if the universe itself had swallowed it.