The whole sky is engulfed in darkness by clouds that forever silence the sun. The wind is howling while the storm is rising.
Earth is stained red with the ever–flowing blood, and the only sound audible in the midst of heavy thunder is the screams of people in agony.
"Go back into the capital and help with the evacuation!"
A beautiful young woman, her hair as white as snow and a scythe gripped tightly in her hand, commands a group of soldiers. Her voice is firm—serious yet her face betrays the confidence like she still can't accept the nightmare unfolding before her.
Don't do anything stupid, Astrea… she thinks, eyes fixed on the massive tree before her—a towering, ancient monolith crowned with a glowing golden halo.
The halo spun slowly above its branches, casting light that pulsed rhythmically every few seconds. The tree's leaves shimmered with each pulse, reflecting the glow like countless mirrors, each angled with impossible precision.
With every surge of light, a golden ripple spreads through the clouds above, as if the tree is communicating with the sky itself,
Beside it, a colossal tornado spun with primal fury, wide enough to swallow entire districts whole. It wasn't just a swirl of wind—it was a living cyclone, crackling with tendrils of blue-white lightning that leapt between clouds and ground-like veins of some titanic, thrashing beast.
Amid the chaos, a lone figure moves through the field, towards the tree, untouched by flame or fear. Cloaked in red, face veiled by ash, one eye covered by a patch while the other—blood-red and devoid of all emotions—stares forward, He steps over corpses like fallen petals, eyes fixed on a horizon long since burned away.
As he looks up, he sees her—sitting gracefully atop an exposed root of the ancient tree, one leg elegantly crossed over the other gently swaying back and forth.
Her elbows rest on her knee, and both hands cradle her cheeks as she gazes down at him, smiling ever so slightly upon his sight
She dons a flowing crimson robe, tailored to her youthful elegance, featuring translucent accents and subtle frills, with silver trimmings that catch the ambient light.
Long, flowing black hair cascades down her back, contrasting with the crimson of her attire.
Her skin is fair, with a subtle luminescence beneath the tree's golden light.
"Took you long enough," she says, her voice barely above a whisper—soft, airy, yet somehow loud enough to cut through the thunder.
"You look worse than I remember," she muses, tilting her head slightly, her smile not faltering.
"Or maybe…. he finally decided to match your mood."
He shot her a glare, and then ignoring her words as if they were insignificant, he said narrowing his eyes "Were you able to find it?"
She lowered her hands from her cheeks and straightened up, uncrossing her legs with fluid grace.
"Oh dear," she teased, the edge of a smirk tugging at her lips, "what's with the stiff face? You're going to make me blush."
When he didn't look away, his eye locked unwaveringly with hers, she let out a soft, almost disappointed sigh—She rose slightly from the root she was sitting on,
With a lazy flick of her hand, she pointed at the centre of the tree.
"It's right there," she said casually. "I found it a while ago."
Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes
"—And since you took your sweet time, I decided to have some fun as well."
Beneath the massive root where she had been perched, the earth is a forest of crimson death.
Thousands of soldiers—each impaled upon blood-red, crystalized spears jutting violently from the ground, perfectly symmetrical and horrifyingly beautiful.
Each one holds a lifeless body, frozen mid-scream or contorted in agony, skewered clean through like offerings to a silent god.
"Let's go," he muttered, his voice flat, uninterested in her theatrics.
Without waiting, he turned and leapt, boots landing firmly on the thick bark of the tree's lower trunk. Another step. Then another. He climbs not with urgency, but with certainty.
The girl hummed softly, lacing her fingers behind her back as she followed. She walked with the ease of someone who had never known fear.
Then, without breaking stride, she leapt.
The wind caught her robe as she rose, fabric billowing like a streak of blood across the storm-lit sky. She landed lightly behind him, feet tapping the ancient wood like a dancer returning to stage.
That's when the tornado let go of the world unleashing a gust in all directions—a pressure wave so fierce it shattered windows two kilometers away. The sky trembled. The air itself seemed to warp.
As the tornado unravelled—its lightning-lit spiral vanishing into vapor—it revealed a boy at its centre.
He lay where the eye once was.
His white cloak, now shredded and soaked in blood, clung to him like a shroud. His leg below the knee was gone—leaving a trail of red where he had crawled across the dirt.
He stirred. Slowly, painfully,
His head lifted, neck trembling. One swollen eye creaked half open. His vision blurred—but the sight in front of him struck deep, primal terror into his bones.
"No…" he whispered. "It… it can't be happening."
"We can't lose. Not now… not after coming this far…"
He buried the broken hilt of his sword into the ground and pushed himself up—balancing on one leg. His hands trembled. The sword cracked further under the strain, glowing red with flickering embers. Tiny shards floated in the air around it—like dying stars.
"I must tell them…" he tells himself slowly moving ahead
"He has one of the core modules"
"If he gets his hand on the other one, everything will be over" he panted, sweat mixing with the blood smeared across his face.
Suddenly a sharp pain erupts in his chest causing him to lose balance and fall on the ground again
"Why...? How...?" he rasped, voice weak with disbelief. He clenched his teeth, forcing his trembling body forward, crawling once more.
"This thing... Why is it still eating at me...?"
His breaths were shallow, his body cold, yet his will remained unbroken. With every ounce of strength left in him, he dragged himself onward.
"I can't die here..."
Tears welled in his eyes, yet his expression was one of sheer defiance.
"Not like this... Not when they all helped me get this far..."
"It hurts… It hurts so much that I can't move a muscle"
The faces of those who had fought alongside him flashed through his mind, their voices echoing within the depths of his fading consciousness.
Is this what they call revisiting your life before death?
Am I really going to die…?
"I don't want to…"
"Someone… help me… please…" he whispered.
So faint, it barely stirred the air.
And then, a bitter laugh echoed in his head.
As if anyone's going to come.
It's a battlefield. Everyone's already drowning in their own blood.
"So… this really is my end, huh?"
His mind drifted as he looked at the sky
It was ten years ago—yeah, a whole ten years back, in a quiet town far from the bustling city of Heista. A place untouched by the chaos of the world, where three lives bloomed, blissfully unaware of the storm that loomed just beyond their sight.
This journey will mark the dawn of a new era—one the world has waited 9 whole centuries to witness.
A journey that will change everything.
Yes, a journey to the end of this world... or perhaps, the beginning of a new one.