Four years had passed in silence.
Not a god.
Not a demon.
No one had come near him.
Luv sat quietly in his classroom, his chin resting in his palm, eyes gazing out the window as the sunlight warmed his face. Students scribbled notes and whispered, but he heard none of it. His mind wandered deep.
"It's been four years... Did they give up? Or are they plotting in shadows again?"
"LUUUV!" his teacher's voice snapped.
He blinked.
"Why are you always lost in thought? You're in class, not on the moon."
"Sorry, teacher," Luv replied with a faint smile. "I'll focus this time. I promise."
But even as he said it, his thoughts remained far away.
That evening, he returned home like any other teenager — shoes off, bag tossed aside, lying on the couch with a game controller in hand. He laughed at sitcoms, lost track of time in online battles, and marveled at Mortal World's endless ways of entertainment.
"This world is strange... but fun," he whispered.
But the peace did not last.
On the night of his fifteenth birthday, everything changed.
It began with a pain — deep and relentless — in his chest.
A crushing sensation, as if thousands of invisible knives pierced his heart.
The curse of a thousand trillion souls had awakened.
The pain grew worse each day. No doctor could explain it. No medicine could soothe it. Even his sealed powers refused to answer.
Every night, visions struck him — horrifying flashes of death, of torture, of innocent lives perishing at the hands of cruelty and greed.
He felt everything.
Each soul's suffering.
Each scream.
Each tear.
When they died in pain, he felt their final breath leave their bodies — and it felt like his own.
Day by day, Luv endured the agony in silence.
Not because he was a god.
Not because he held power.
But because of something far stronger.
His will.
One night, curled up on the floor, gasping from the pain, Luv whispered a poem to himself — not for others to hear, but to keep his spirit alive.
I blame no one for this pain I bear,
Not the gods, nor demons who put it there.
If I crumble beneath the weight of this fate,
Then weak was I, not cruel was hate.
Let them chain my soul, tear my name apart—
They'll never touch what beats in my heart.
I walk through storms with shattered breath,
Yet greet each dawn, defying death.
If I must fall, let me fall with pride,
But know this flame won't ever subside.
You may strike my body, burn my skin,
But my will — my will — won't break within.
If anyone had heard it, they would have wept.
Because those words came not from power — but from a place deeper than divinity: the will to endure when no strength remains.
And that will… unlocked a new power.
Soul Projection.
The ability to leave his body and travel the realms — even while sealed, even while mortal.
That night, as his body lay resting in bed, Luv's soul slipped into the unknown.
Not heaven.
Not hell.
But a strange, fog-covered realm.
Darkness surrounded him. Houses stood empty. Streets were cracked. The black fog moved like a living thing, devouring sound and light.
He wandered for hours. No voices. No signs of life.
Until — a whisper.
A child's voice.
He ran toward it, and at last, saw them — a group of children and elderly, huddled near the remains of what looked like a broken town.
But not a single man or woman.
No mothers.
No fathers.
No young adults.
Just the forgotten.
He approached one of the elderly men and asked, "Where is everyone? Why is this place covered in darkness? And why… why are there no women or men here?"
The old man's eyes filled with sorrow, but before he could answer, a young child spoke.
"They took them..."
"Who?" Luv asked gently.
"The upper-class ones. The people who live in the sky castles. They came… and took my mom, my dad, even my sister. They called it a 'cleansing.' Said we didn't belong..."
The child's voice cracked.
"I miss them... every night I cry. But no one listens."
Luv's fists clenched.
His eyes, once soft, turned sharp like blades.
"What kind of place is this?" he thought. "Even in dreams, the strong prey on the weak..."
"Am I really dreaming? Because this feels far too real."
His soul burned quietly with a familiar fire.
He looked at the crying children… at the elders too weak to stand… at the empty homes haunted by stolen memories.
"No more."
He stood tall, eyes glowing faintly in the fog.
"I will find them," he said. "And I'll make those sky-dwellers remember what happens when you steal light from the innocent."
And with that, Luv — the cursed boy with the heart of a god — walked toward the unknown.
Not to conquer.
Not to destroy.
But to remind the world:
Even the smallest light can burn a kingdom to ash.
Each step echoed in silence. Each breath carried the weight of a thousand cries.
This was no illusion.
This realm — this low, forsaken domain — was real. A hidden corner of existence, abandoned by gods and unseen by demons.
A place forgotten.
A place used.