In this world, angels and demons are locked in an eternal war, each driven by their own beliefs. The angels fight to preserve the fabric of reality itself, while the demons seek to twist it into a chaotic playground for their own amusement. Yet again and again, the demons fail, overwhelmed by the unparalleled might of the angels.
This conflict began when Hell and Paradise were first forged—two realms born in opposition. Despite countless clashes, neither side could deliver the decisive blow to destroy the other. Their struggle continued endlessly, until the birth of Earth changed everything. Both angels and demons turned their gaze toward this new world, drawn to its core, which brimmed with an extraordinary concentration of life force.
At that moment, their purpose shifted. The angels swore to shield Earth, terrified that the demons might exploit its power and tip the balance of the war. To face this threat, the angels unleashed a sacred flame upon the world—a divine fire that gifted humanity extraordinary abilities, defying the very laws of reality. This power came to be known as Prometeo.
For some, Prometeo is seen as a blessing from the heavens — a spark of divinity to guide humanity's destiny. For others, it is a curse—an unnatural force that shatters the order of existence.
In the hazy glow of twilight, a deserted plaza lay silent, save for the distant echo of soldiers' boots pounding the ground. Concealed in shadow, Pathos held his breath, praying his father's words would shield him:
"Wait. I'll come back for you."
But doubt devoured him. As the sounds faded, he slipped through the remnants of swirling dust, weaving past soldiers scanning the area, searching for him and his family. Every step he took was measured, careful, silent.
He ran and ran not even caring for his own two legs that stumbled over the mud that sank his very leg with each step. He couldn't even dare to look any way other than straight, to his misfortune however, with the tail of his eye he glanced at piles of corpses coming from friends and people he cared about to the point they resembled family.
When he finally reached the plaza's center, the sight that met him stopped his heart. His father's form lay lifeless on the cold stone. For a moment, Pathos's world stopped; the droplets frozen in the air, the sound of boots on puddles and mud was replaced by nothing but a ringing in his ear.
«Pathos» Dad? Dad!
He dropped to his knees right beside him and shook his father's shoulder, his hands shaking. Despite the heavy rain, Pathos's gaze never faltered. His heart pounded; he desperately hoped his father was still alive.
«Pathos» No, no, please! Dad, don't leave me! Dad?
Only silence answered.
Tears mixed with raindrops, soaking into the earth. Cradling his father's head, Pathos felt grief and rage surge within him, threatening to consume him. He would find those responsible—he would make them pay.
A soft, trembling hand pressed weakly against his shoulder. Pathos gasped as his father's eyes fluttered open.
«Pathos» Dad! What happened? Who did this to you?
«Pathos's Father» Run.
Pathos quickly shook his head, he wasn't going to run–not with him still alive. Despite his father's injury, he clung to the last branch of hope that he had left. Too much was happening in the span of a few minutes.
The many corpses he found in his way were stabbed and drenched in a pool of blood and rain, while others didn't even have a head.
«Pathos» No! I can't leave you here to die!
«Pathos's Father» My son... I don't have the strength to defend you anymore. You must take care of yourself. Listen to me.
Pathos's father coughed up blood as he tried to speak. His voice grew weaker with each breath blood stained his neck until it began mixing with the puddle in which he was laying on.
He gazed into his son's black eyes that reminded him of his wife. That darkness however was stained or rather swallowed by the sea of tears that sinked his eye in water.
«Pathos's Father» North from here… there's a city where you can find a dear friend of mine. His name is Jhoel.
«Pathos» No! Please, I can't leave you here...
His father's lips curved into a faint, pained smile. Pathos can't bear to let go, his hands firmly gripping on his father's shoulders. But just like his muddied hands his heart was also desperately clinging to a feeling he will never forget, Hope.
But the bleeding never stopped, in his back Pathos could sense the boiling blood travelling from his back to Pathos's very hands. But, perhaps he was still salvable, maybe if he could find the right person he could patch his very wounds.
«Pathos» I just need to find a doctor. You will be ok! Everything will be ok!
«Pathos's Father» Listen to me well, son… Find your mother and run as fast as you can without looking back. I will always...
He raised a shaking hand to Pathos's cheek, his voice fading to a whisper. He knew there was nothing Pathos could do to save him now, he wanted to stay by his side to support him with every choice he would make but now Pathos had to grow.
Grow into a man capable of holding his own by himself, but how could he, he was still just a kid. With his last share of strength he muttered.
«Pathos's Father» …love you. My son
With those final words, his hand fell limp. Alone in the rain, at last his father died. He felt...weak, there was nothing he could have done to save his father.
For one last time, he embraced his father, tears running from Pathos's to his father's cheek. Until Pathos screamed, his cry echoing across the empty plaza. His emotions overwhelmed him as if he was drowning in an ocean of pain, all he could feel was.
«Pathos» die-Die-DIE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU I'LL KILL YOU I'LL KILL YOU ALL!
Suddenly, a heavy raindrop struck his face entering from the socket of his eye's, burning like fire. He gasped, clutching his face as the searing sensation spread, pulsing deep within him. His body went still, collapsing over his father.
The clamor of boots returned, growing louder as soldiers converged on the plaza. They found Pathos motionless–an easy prey for them to feast on. However, something resonated on the boy, steering him awake. Something unknown–something not from this world. His eyes opened, and slowly his body rose.
Pathos was surrounded by many, but few were able to understand what was happening. They created a monster. The lightning seared through him—a scorching pain that wasn't just physical—it burned through his grief, his rage, his hope. Pathos's scream wasn't just a cry of agony, but a release, a declaration of the storm inside.
Tears streaming down his face, he turned to the soldiers who surrounded him. His body trembled as sparks of electricity crackled around him.
«Pathos» DIE!
A deafening crack split the air as lightning exploded from Pathos's trembling form. The first soldier barely had time to scream before the bolt struck, hurling him backward. The others followed, their armor searing with white-hot energy as they crumpled to the ground.
A second scream tore from his lips, thunderous and full of pain, as the storm within him erupted with every victim he took, could recall all the good memories he had about his father, a memory that can never be brought back.
Suddenly his body erupted. In just a few minutes, every soldier was defeated, one after another—their corpses left burning and resonating with bolts. Pathos stood among them, walking aimlessly through the dead.
Their faces were completely scorched to the point it reached the bone itself with their eyes melting onto their very face. But for those that wore an helmet they had it worse, the iron of that piece of equipment melted itself onto their very faces some were still alive but the metal attached itself onto their skin felt like torture.
He stopped near the body of a soldier immobilized under some rubble, his arm was completely broken with crimson blood gouging out of what's left of it, a face that was burned from the numerous bolts and his armor was melted with his own skin hurting him with every move.
But the soldier was still alive. His eyes tremble as he sees Pathos standing right next to him, out of desperation he reaches out.
«Soldier» Please… help me...
His voice was desperate. He reached out to his enemy in search of mercy. Pathos looked at him with disgust before reaching for the soldier's hand—but his own hand bypassed it, grabbing the cloak the soldier wore. Slowly, he pulled it off and put it on to shield himself from the rain.
«Soldier» Please! I have a family!
He wrapped the soldier's cloak around him—not for warmth, but to carry the weight of what he had done. Never breaking eye contact.
His very plea made Pathos's stomach clench, Help!? The audacity do even ask for something like this after what he and their brothering had done. He exploded
«Pathos» I had a family too. And it's because of you! that I lost them. I lost all of it!
«Soldier» Please...
Pathos gripped his teeth's his mind mixed with hate and pity both fighting with one another desperate to find a solution.
«Pathos» Why should I help you! Ah? My father is dead and you are....
Pathos grunted, his voice catching in his throat as he looked away.
Pathos kicks the rumble that was on top of the soldier freeing him. Without looking back he continued walking, his foot stomping into the wet mud. The cloak was in poor shape, but it was enough to shield him from the downpour.
«Soldier» Thank-you...
Pathos moved on, stepping over the corpses of innocent people the soldiers had killed without mercy—his friends, his family's friends. No one had survived.
Then suddenly.
«???» Pathos! Pathos!
A loud scream drew his attention. Someone was calling out for him—and when he turned, he saw his own mother desperate. She was in a carriage with some soldiers who had found her first. Her hands and legs were tied with cloth, and a soldier kept her restrained by holding it tight.
«Soldier» Hold still, you bitch!
«Pathos» Mother!
As Pathos called out to her, he ran toward the carriage, reaching out desperately—but something stopped him. The same burning sensation as before, only this time, it was greater. It overwhelmed him.
His very body was suffering the consequences of such a tremendous display of power that Pathos showed against the soldier that stood in his way, almost as if it wasn't just his body that was tired but his very soul.
«Pathos» Mot...her...
The carriage moved on, his mother's desperate cries fading as the rain swallowed them. Pathos never rose. His eyes stayed open, staring into the storm. Beneath them, something stirred—two faintly glowing eye sockets appeared. His eyes slowly closed—still fixed on the spot where the carriage had disappeared. Until everything went dark.
The memory of the now broken village lived on into Pathos, everything and everyone was destroyed and torn in that storm.
His lifeless body rested in the rain as time passed.
The sun rose again, and Pathos finally woke up. After regaining consciousness, without wasting a second he rose from the ground and quickly looked around for his missing mother.
«Pathos» Mother!
But nobody answered his call.
«Pathos» God!
Pathos punched the ground out of frustration.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and Pathos began to cry. He felt sorrow watching everything that he loved or cared gone with the span of a day his father was dead, his mother was missing and everyone he knew was gone.
He struck the ground once—hard enough to bleed—then stayed frozen, knuckles trembling in the dirt. He stared at the ground in defeat.
«Pathos» Fat-her..Hik…
That strength that he had now recovered slowly began to fade in the absence of everything.
He raised his head. His teeth were still clenching with one another as if he wanted to hold the urge to cry because he knew that wouldn't bring back anyone.
«Pathos» Why—why…
After taking some time to take everything in, he took his time digging a grave for his Father.
Moments later. He gently lowered the body of his father into a hole he had dug, covering it with dirt. Pathos's eyes were soulless. He didn't know what to feel in that moment—every possible emotion was twisted and tangled together. He dropped the first handful of dirt over him.
«Pathos» I promise I'm going to bring back Mom, Dad. After that, I'll do what you asked me. I'll try to live in peace—with myself... and with others.
He continued covering the body with wet dirt until the grave was filled. Then, putting on his new cloak covering his face, he finally left everything behind: the village, his father, his friends. Everything. As he made his way out of the village, he found a path leading north and followed it silently, without saying a word.
After the first hour of walking, a carriage passed by. The driver noticed the young Pathos and quickly pulled the reins.
«???» Whoa... whoa, wait there, girl.
The horse stopped and so did the carriage. Pathos noticed him but kept moving.
«???» Hey, kid! Need a ride?
Pathos halted in his tracks by the sudden question, he wasn't expecting to meet someone in this road. But despite the stranger's kindness he column'd bring himself to be in proximity of someone else.
«Pathos» No, thanks. I prefer to walk right now.
The stranger was quite confused however, from his point of view he couldn't see his face due to the
cloak but for some reason he could tell he was genuinely tired from walking for so long.
He didn't know that he came from a nearby village, nor did he know it even existed. Nevertheless he spotted Pathos's legs shaking as if they were about to give up.
«???» You sure? The next city is at least 20 kilometers from here.
Pathos passed the driver and kept walking, ignoring him—until his stomach spoke louder.
«???» Ohhhh. Looks like someone is hungry, come on in. We've got food, and we'll just give you a lift to your destination. How bad can it be, huh?
Pathos was betrayed by his very stomach, perhaps however it wasn't such a bad thing. Pathos was walking for a couple of hours but hunger was never the issue up until now.
Reluctantly, Pathos agreed.
«Pathos» ...Alright.
Pathos turned around and entered the carriage from the back. He moved the curtains aside and found a lady sleeping inside. In a calm voice, the driver asked:
«???» May I ask you not to wake her, please? She's been in pain for a while now.
Pathos examined the woman, hair yellow like a sun flower and a face that one could describe with a word, gentile. But he noticed something else about this lady, a swollen belly. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he noticed the pregnant woman.
«Pathos» She's pregnant?
«???» Yes, so please try to make as little noise as possible.
Pathos grew a faint smile as he watched the stranger slowly wave his hand as he gently asked to keep a low tone.
«Pathos» I will.
Pathos sat down softly, resting his back against the carriage wall. He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
«???» So, where are you headed, kid?
«Pathos» A city north of here...I don't know the name but it should be in proximity…I think.
«???» Ah, you mean Serres? That's perfect! We're headed there too.
The kind man started moving the carriage again. Pathos glanced at the pregnant lady, still sleeping. However, he wondered if perhaps their talking might disturbed the pregnant woman.
«Pathos» Maybe we shouldn't talk.
He asked with genuine concern, however the driver quickly dismissed him by stating.
«???» Nah, don't worry. My wife's a heavy sleeper—Voices are about the only thing that doesn't wake her. But you know. Just to be sure, it's best if we keep our voice down.
Pathos glanced back at the woman, still not convinced but deciding to take his word.
«Pathos» I see.
«???» Anyway, my name's Francis, and my wife's name is Petra.
«Pathos» I'm Pathos. Pathos Raimei
«Francis» Pathos, huh? So, why were you traveling all alone?
Pathos opened his mouth, wanting to tell the truth—but decided against it. It was best if this stranger knew as little as possible about him.
«Pathos» I–I'm just visiting someone. That's all.
Pathos spoke with a certain confusion as if he himself didn't know what he was doing or rather what he was supposed to do. In his confusion Francis immediately pointed out that this could very well be a lie, but he believed that in those words there must be a bit of truth.
«Francis» You sure that's all? Your clothes are covered in mud, and judging by your voice, you don't sound...how can I put it. Happy?
Pathos glanced side to side as he tried to come up with a quick excuse and immediately stated the first thing that came to his mind.
«Pathos» Got attacked by wolves. I fought back and ended up in a pile of mud.
Francis however, wasn't convinced, with a quick examination of his body he noticed multiple cuts on his cloth not from fangs or claws. Yet. He didn't push further. This random kid probably had a story of his own and if he was going to hide it from him then perhaps it was something he wanted to keep hidden.
«Francis» Mhm... But don't you think your mother and father are worried about you?
Their conversation halted for a couple of seconds with the only thing that altered that silence between them were the sounds of the wooden wheels grinding over the stones along the path.
Pathos spoke once more his tone was much lower but if he wanted to keep his facade he had to answer this question whether he liked it or not.
«Pathos» Yes...They probably are
Pathos's stomach growled again. Francis noticed and quickly rubbed the back of his head as if it was his fault for forgetting to feed this runaway kid.
«Francis» Ah! Sorry sorry, I got caught up in our conversation and forgot to offer you something to eat.
He turned and pointed at the sacks near Pathos, directly pointing towards the one closest to the edge of the carriage.
«Francis» In that bag, there are some fruits. Help yourself out.
Pathos gazed towards the multiple sacks sitting right beside him, Pathos cordially answered.
«Pathos» Thank you.
Without wasting any more time Pathos slowly crawled his way towards the estimated sack while trying to make as little noise as possible.
«Francis» Don't mention it. I couldn't leave a kid alone to starve.
Pathos opened the sack, rummaging through it until he picked out an apple. Before he could bite it however he inspected it with care checking if the fruit was fresh as Francis said. After making sure it was good his teeth sank into the apple, tearing through its crisp skin. Its taste was sweet and fresh.
«Pathos» Wow...
«Francis» Good, huh? Picked them just this morning. Nothing beats that kind of freshness.
The sudden freshness that traversed along the sides of his cheek gave Pathos a familiar comfort as if he still was in a village where fruits were something methodical.
«Pathos» It's amazing...
«Francis» Eat as much as you'd like. Just save some for ourselves too.
Francis let out a soft chuckle. Pathos continued eating until His fingers brushed over a raised stitching—an emblem, weathered by time but unmistakable. He brought it closer to inspect it, his eyes shining with resolve, then turned to Francis.
He didn't even notice this cloak had an emblem attached to it. If there was even the slightest chance he could find those responsible for such misdeed it would have been through that mark.
«Pathos» This emblem...Do you know where this mark is from?
«Francis» Hmm… What mark? Let me see.
Pathos walked over and showed him the mark. Francis took a quick glance towards it and replayed with.
«Francis» Oh yeah, that's the symbol of the soldiers from Arieste.
The name of the city of Arieste sent a chill down Pathos's spine. Arieste was the name of the city he and his family used to live in, he didn't know much about that city since he had spent most of his life as a child there.
The sudden remainder of said city made him realize that those were the soldiers of his past city. But never. Ever, did he expect those men to be of Arieste.
«Francis» Was your father part of an army, maybe?
As he realized the truth, he was lost in his own mind as he pieced together the reason why they might have attacked them. Was it because of him? Of those sudden bolts that came out of his own body?
No it couldn't be if they wanted him and him alone they would have only attacked him and his family, so why would they go forth and kill everyone? As if they were trying to erase something.
«Pathos» No... Yes. When I started this journey, I brought the cloak with me to shield myself from the rain.
«Francis» Ah, I see.
Francis felt a bit uncomfortable, this kid shoved him nothing but lies but the more their conversation moved on the more he felt lost trying to find a possible explanation to this kid's "journey".
«Pathos» Thank you for the information.
«Francis» My pleasure, kid.
Pathos quietly sat back down, inspecting the mark once more. Finally he had a clue, the murder's of his father were finally discovered and all he felt was pure revenge.
He clutched the cloak tighter, knuckling white, as if gripping the memory of his father itself. Speaking to himself he mumbled.
«Pathos» They'll pay for every drop of blood they spilled. And I swear to you, Mother... no matter what it takes—I will find you.