A world once filled with riches and vibrant life… a world overflowing with happiness and joy.
Now, it was nothing more than a fading memory — a memory that would never be remembered.
A lone man stood in the sky, gazing at the half-broken red moon. His body was bloodied, his remaining arm clenched tightly around a spear. A shattered, horn-like crown hovered above his head. Around him, the stench of death and chaos lingered.
He was the last living being in this dying world.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Look at you — the only one left alive!"
An unknown creature hovered before him, its mocking laughter echoing across the void. Yet behind that laughter flickered fear.
She had never imagined that a mortal could injure her this badly.
Her bat-like wings were torn, barely keeping her afloat. Three of her limbs were gone, and the arrogance that once defined her beautiful face had crumbled into desperation.
She knew it — she was about to die. At the hands of a mortal.
The man lifted his gaze, his white eyes devoid of emotion."Let's end this," he said softly. "In the end… I failed to protect what was left."
He closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing upon the shattered remnants of his Zen. Not only his own — he pulled Zen from everything around him: the corpses of his soldiers, the remains of monsters and beasts, even the dying breath of the land itself.
The earth trembled as it answered his call.
He murmured a single word.
"Phantasia."
The world shifted.
A radiant white sun appeared behind him, flooding the battlefield with blinding light. His white hair lengthened, and from his back erupted wings of white flame. The ground beneath them cracked, transforming into a hellish landscape as fire roared like volcanoes. Space itself distorted, bending under the unbearable pressure.
His glowing eyes narrowed to a thin slit forming down the middle, making him look less like a man and more like a god.
The creature stared at him in awe. "To think… a mortal capable of creating an imaginary dimension in the real world."
She paused, "No… this isn't imaginary. This is real — a true dimension encompassing reality, though it's still incomplete."
She smiled weakly, trembling. "I commend you, mortal. You've surpassed even the gods of this world. Too bad you never reached godhood."Her voice softened. "I am Zestula Kastilla, one of the ancient Outer Gods. Tell me, mortal — what is your name?"
The man crouched, grasping his spear as golden runes shimmered along its void-like blade." I am Samuel von Lunar," he said quietly. "The King of this world."
With that, Samuel surged forward, his wings blazing white. A halo of flame trailed behind him as he rushed toward the Outer God.
Zestula sneered, raising her bloodied hand as a crimson spear materialised. "Blood Scion!"
A massive dragon made of blood formed, spiralling around him, ready to consume all.
Samuel met it head-on. The air fell still — no sound, no wind, only silence. Even the roaring flames froze, as if the world itself held its breath.
Then—
BOOM.
Their weapons clashed. The explosion shattered the heavens, erasing everything in its path. The red moon above disintegrated, and the planet trembled on the edge of annihilation.
Zestula coughed violently, her body shaking. Behind her, Samuel stood with a gaping wound through his chest, yet he remained upright.
A line slowly formed down Zestula's body, from neck to torso.
The Outer God's lips twitched into a bitter smile. "A pity," she whispered.
Her body split in two and slowly disintegrated into dust.
Samuel's Phantasia trembled. The light faded. Yet he did not fall.
He let go of his spear as his lifeblood poured from his chest. Samuel von Lunar — the last king of a dying world — died standing.
***
In an unknown dimension, far to the north in the frozen lands of the world, stood a kingdom of ice.
Outside, the city was alive with celebration — the birth of the youngest son of King Soleil.
At the centre of the kingdom floated a magnificent white castle in the sky. Inside, however, tension filled the air. The king's terrifying aura made every servant and soldier tremble.
Outside a great double door, the King paced back and forth, biting his finger anxiously."Is my wife okay? She's okay, right? Right? The baby… I hope he's fine…" he muttered repeatedly.
"Calm down, Father," said a young man with crimson hair and eyes.
The king looked at him — his eldest son, Kelvin — and nodded quickly."You're right. I should be calm! I am a proud father, after all!"
Kelvin sighed. To think that one of the most powerful beings in the world — a man who burned enemies alive while laughing — was acting like this. Still, he smiled. His father might be terrifying, but he was also kind.
He glanced toward the room. "I hope Mother and the baby are safe…"
An hour later.
Inside a delicate chamber, a beautiful woman cradled a newborn in her arms. She looked up and smiled warmly."Darling, isn't he adorable?"
The King trembled. "C-Can I hold him?"
"Of course," she replied gently.
Kelvin smiled as he watched his father, the First Human God, cradle the baby as if he were made of glass. He looked down at his little brother."Hello, Sirius," he said softly.
The baby slowly opened his eyes, deep crimson glowing faintly under the light. They mirrored his father's and brother's hue, but a vertical slit ran down the middle of each pupil, just like his mother's. He blinked once, tilting his tiny head in quiet curiosity.
"Pwa?"
It was just a baby's sound. But—
What the fuck?!