Amidst the pitch-black darkness and the blood that stained the earth, Rain Irthon stood atop the ruins he had created with his own hands. The city that had been bustling with life just hours ago was now nothing more than a pile of rubble, groaning under the weight of destruction. Bodies of soldiers and innocents lay scattered everywhere, and the air was thick with the scent of death.
This was only the beginning.
Rain felt no remorse. On the contrary, for the first time, he felt as if he could truly breathe. He looked at his bloodstained hands, then at the Black Butterfly hovering lightly around him, its wings glowing with a faint energy.
"Is this what freedom feels like?" he murmured under his breath, as the last remnants of fire flickered behind him.
But there was no time for reflection.
A shadow moved in the corner, accompanied by a faint, trembling voice emerging from the wreckage.
"You... monster..."
It was the only survivor of tonight's massacre—a small boy, barely reaching Rain's waist, his wide eyes filled with absolute terror.
Rain did not respond. He merely stared at the boy for a moment before raising his hand to end it all.
But before he could move, he felt something… something strange.
As if an invisible blade had passed through his body for a fleeting moment.
Before he could comprehend what was happening, the air in front of him tore apart, and from within the rift stepped a figure clad entirely in black robes. There was no aura of power surrounding him, yet Rain knew this was no ordinary man.
"Rain Irthon, at last, we meet."
The voice was calm but carried a hidden force, as if the speaker possessed knowledge no one was meant to have.
Rain did not move, but he felt the Black Butterfly flutter wildly, as if warning him of an unseen danger.
"And who are you?" Rain asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowing.
The man did not respond immediately. Instead, he raised his hand, revealing an ancient black book, its symbols glowing with the color of blood.
"You are talented, there's no doubt about that." the man said, flipping through the pages without even looking at them. "But what if I told you that all of this… has already been written?"
A strange unease crept into Rain's chest.
"Written?"
The man suddenly shut the book and gazed at him with eyes devoid of emotion.
"Yes. Your fate was inscribed long ago. But the question is… will you submit to it? Or will you break it?"
Rain was not someone who believed in fate. He had destroyed everything in his path to carve out his own future, and he would not allow anyone to dictate what lay ahead for him.
But this man… was different.
Before he could respond, a crushing pressure filled the air. It was as if the world itself had begun to change, and the very atmosphere grew heavier.
The Black Butterfly flapped its wings frantically, as if trying to warn him, but it was already too late.
The man smirked, then vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving behind only a single parting phrase:
"Either you become fate… or you become its victim."
And in that moment, everything began to change