In a world born from chaos, even love bleeds red.
Snow was falling. Not the soft, gentle kind that poets romanticize — this one came down like ash after a fire.
Each flake sparkled faintly as it drifted through the pale air. But when they touched the ground… they turned red.
At first, it was just one. A single snowflake landing softly, melting into a crimson droplet.
Then another. And another.
Until the white plain was drowned in red.
The wind carried silence — the kind that only comes after death.
Bodies littered the battlefield like broken dolls. Some still clutched their weapons, others stared blankly at the sky that had long stopped caring.
And in the middle of it all stood a woman.
Her armor was dented, cracked, and painted with blood — some hers, most not. It shimmered faintly under the falling snow, reflecting red light like a dying ember.
Her long black hair was streaked with frost, her face beautiful yet marked — a thin scar ran from her cheekbone to her jaw, cutting through perfection like a cruel joke.
She didn't seem to notice.
Crystal — Queen of the Kingdom of Asterion, Commander of the Asura Army — exhaled slowly, her breath a ghost in the frozen air.
Her sword hung loosely in her hand, its blade still dripping blood onto the snow.
"…Tch."
She kicked at the decapitated corpse at her feet. "Should've surrendered when you had the chance."
The head beside her rolled, eyes frozen wide open — still holding that same expression of disbelief people had when they realized they were about to die.
Crystal sighed and crouched slightly, glancing at the head before tossing it aside like trash. "You kings and your pride. Always the same."
She sheathed her sword, the metal ringing faintly before silence returned. For a moment, she just stood there, letting the snow — red and white — fall on her armor.
Then a voice broke the quiet.
"My Queen!"
A man jogged toward her, wrapped in a heavy coat of wolf fur, armor underneath scratched and scuffed. His breath fogged the air as he bowed slightly.
"The King seeks your presence."
Crystal turned her head lazily toward him. "Does he now?"
The soldier nodded, still panting.
Crystal stretched her neck with a small groan. "Then he can wait two minutes. Get me water first."
"Ah— yes, my Queen." The man hurried off, stepping over corpses as if that were just another part of the terrain.
Crystal stared after him, muttering, "King seeks your presence, huh… couldn't he have waited until I cleaned up? Typical."
The man returned quickly, carrying a flask. Crystal snatched it, took a long drink, then exhaled in relief. "Now that's better."
She handed it back, then dusted her armor even though it was pointless. The snow and blood had claimed her long ago.
"Alright," she said, flicking some of her hair back. "Let's not keep His Majesty waiting. Wouldn't want him thinking I'm plotting another coup."
The soldier blinked in panic. "My Queen, please don't joke like that—"
"Relax," she said, walking past him. "If I wanted his throne, I'd already be sitting on it."
The poor man's expression froze. He decided not to reply.
The war camp lay just beyond the hills. Rows of tents — burned, tattered, or frozen solid — marked the remnants of the Asura Army's final battle.
It was quiet now. No orders being shouted, no banners flapping. Only the sound of melting snow and the faint crackle of dying fires.
Crystal entered the command base — a massive tent reinforced with wooden beams. Inside, maps covered the tables, and the scent of metal and ink filled the air.
At the far end stood a man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with golden hair that caught the firelight like a halo. His armor gleamed — untouched by battle, as if the world itself avoided staining him.
King Noah.
He turned when she entered, his eyes — calm and confident — softening slightly. "Walk with me, my Queen."
Crystal arched a brow. "No 'you're late,' no lecture, just straight to 'walk with me'? Huh. You must be in a good mood."
He smiled. "The war is over, is it not?"
She shrugged. "Depends on what you call over. I still hear ghosts screaming out there."
Noah chuckled, walking past her toward the tent flap. "Come."
Crystal followed, her boots crunching against the snow as they stepped outside.
The wind had quieted. The sky was clear now, streaked with gold as the sun broke through the clouds. The battlefield stretched endlessly — red snow, shattered banners, and distant mountains capped in white.
They walked in silence for a while, the only sound the rhythm of their steps and the wind brushing against their cloaks.
After a while, the ground sloped upward. The path led to a cliff overlooking the valley. From there, the entire world seemed frozen in time — the snow below reflecting the fading light like a sea of glass.
"It's beautiful," Noah said quietly.
Crystal stared at the view. "Beautiful, huh? You sure we're looking at the same thing?"
He smiled faintly. "You only see the blood, my Queen. I see what's beneath it — the land we fought for."
Crystal snorted. "And how many died to make it yours?"
"Ours," he corrected gently.
She gave him a look. "Right. Ours."
The sarcasm in her voice was sharp enough to cut air.
For a while, neither spoke. The world around them was silent, save for the wind.
Then, without warning, Noah stepped closer.
He reached out — his gauntleted hand brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "You've done well, Crystal."
She frowned slightly but didn't move away. "Spare me the speeches, Noah. We both know you hate giving credit."
He chuckled. "Perhaps I'm getting sentimental in my old age."
"You're thirty-two."
"Old enough to start lying about it," he replied, smiling.
Crystal rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"I'm your husband," he said softly.
That made her pause.
His voice wasn't mocking this time. There was warmth in it — something she hadn't heard since before the war began.
For a moment, she almost forgot the corpses below. The snow. The blood. The endless killing.
Almost.
Then he stepped closer — close enough that she could smell the faint scent of steel and frost on him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a gentle embrace.
Crystal blinked, caught off guard.
"…What's this for?" she muttered.
"For surviving," he said quietly. "For everything."
She sighed and leaned against him, just for a moment. "You're weird when you're sentimental, you know that?"
"I've been told," he murmured.
And for a fleeting second, it felt peaceful.
Two people, standing amidst the ruin of their world, holding on to a moment that almost felt human.
Then —
Shhk.
Crystal's body jerked.
A sharp sound — the soft, wet slice of steel through flesh — echoed in the quiet air.
For a moment, she didn't even register it. Just a strange, warm feeling spreading across her stomach.
Then she looked down.
A blade — silver, ornate, and all too familiar — was buried deep in her abdomen.
Her eyes widened.
Blood — bright red, stark against the snow — began to drip down her armor.
"Noah…"
He didn't speak.
His face was calm, almost serene. Like a man performing a duty, not committing a betrayal.
Her mind blanked for a second — then snapped back violently.
"You…"
Crystal pushed him back with all the strength she had left, her fingers trembling as they gripped the hilt of his sword.
He staggered a few steps, his golden hair catching the sunlight. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
"Sorry?" She laughed — harshly, bitterly. "You stabbed me, and that's what you say?"
His gaze didn't waver. "You were never meant to live past this war."
"…What?"
"The council. The nobles. They feared you more than the enemy. You've become too powerful, Crystal. Too unpredictable."
Crystal's vision swam, red and white blurring together. "So you decided to fix that by stabbing your wife?"
"It's not personal," he said quietly.
"Oh, it's very personal," she hissed. Blood trickled from her lips as she gritted her teeth. "You bastard."
She stumbled back, clutching her stomach, but her eyes burned with fury. "You think… I'd go down this easy?"
Noah didn't answer.
Crystal smirked weakly, despite the blood. "You really should've gone for the head."
Then she twisted her body and kicked him hard in the chest.
He didn't expect it. The blow sent him staggering backward, his sword slipping from her gut as he fell onto the snow.
Crystal dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Her hand pressed against the wound, warm blood seeping through her fingers.
Her vision flickered. The world tilted.
Snow kept falling — red, white, red again.
And in the midst of that silent chaos, she laughed.
"Heh… you really are an idiot, Noah…"
Her body swayed. Her armor clinked softly as she tried to stand — failed — then sank to the ground, eyes half-open.
Above her, Noah rose slowly, face unreadable. "Forgive me," he whispered. "But this was always how it had to end."
Her lips moved faintly. "…Then may Heaven judge you first."
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the falling snow — no longer red, no longer white, but the color of everything fading away.
And so ended the Queen of Asterion — the woman who defied Heaven and man alike.But in the world born from chaos… death is rarely the end.