The sky is covered with roiling grey clouds, letting almost no sunlight pass through it. Far below, the waves are crashing against the shore, scattering mist across the windy beach. The tall coastal grass is bowing and trembling beneath the rushing gale. And high above, seagulls are carving white arcs through the grey clouds, their feathers gleaming whenever a rebellious shard of sunlight pierces the gloom.
The world feels vast, ancient, hollow, and almost abandoned. Except for the two figures upon the swaying grass. A young man lying peacefully on the grass, and a kid sitting beside him. Both are wearing nothing but white robes with golden outlines.
"What are you thinking, master?" the kid asked. His pearl-white hair fluttered like threads of moonlight as his pale green, playful-looking eyes stared right through the young man's soul.
The young man rose from the grass, maintaining the eye contact as he said in a serious tone, "You already know what I am thinking." His robe is fluttering in the rushing wind. "Tell me, Jahad," he murmured, his voice low but detached, "who do you think is going to win in the end?"
Jahad didn't even hesitate for a second as he said, "HE." A quiet declaration, simple yet absolute. Continuously looking at his eyes, he asked, "Don't you already know the answer?"
An egoistic laugh slipped from the young man's lips.
"He is a mere mortal," he said, voice thick with scorn, "and I am a god."
After a few moments of silence, he spoke again, slower, "A mere mortal... who owns the gods. How ironic."
And with that, he broke into wild laughter. It sounded more like sobbing in grief than laughter. But it was definitely a laugh. no tears was in his eyes.
Then, without warning, he stopped. He turned his steady, unblinking gaze and fixed to the kid.
"If I die here," he said quietly, "take me to the Mother first."
"As you wish, Master Noctis."
Noctis felt his heart rising. he got difficulty breathing. His legs blanched to a sickly blue, trembling like a young sapling caught in strome. Strength abandoned him at last. He sank to his knees, and then fell onto the earth.
He died.
"Oh, Lord of contradictions, divine spark of the psyche," the child murmured. "Who would have imagined that a being such as you would meet an a destiny like this?"
With an unsettling calm, he drew his blade across Noctis's brow. Flesh parted. From within, he extracted the pineal gland with almost reverent care, then lowered it into a glass jar filled with clear liquid. probably alcohol.
Almost at once, a man in a grey coat stepped into the space-as though reality itself were being undone in reverse, like an electrically charged eraser restoring a vanished sketch. He was clean-shaven, his attire plain yet impeccably classic. no ornament except for a silver wristwatch that matches the color of his hair.
"He's dead," he said at last, a flicker of excitement threading his otherwise cold voice. "Finally. Now give me what you promised."
"I've... changed my mind," Jahad replied.
"Changed-what?" The man stiffened, irritation cracking through his composure. "Do you think this is child's play? Or have you begun to take that ridiculous, childish facade of yours seriously?" His voice sharpened. "Now don't force me to invoke my authority. Give me the relic."
The moment the words left his mouth, the world unraveled.
The ground vanished in every direction, leaving only a narrow circle beneath their feet and the lifeless body. Beyond it yawned a vast, bottomless abyss, choked with black, screaming mists. The void pulsed. Now glowing red with searing heat, now sinking into an icy blue chill, as though the abyss itself were breathing. all the seagull immediately fell into the abyss as if they were just some lifeless figures.
Jahad's voice rose calmly from the edge of annihilation.
"Tell me, Sir Ruk... Do you truly believe your authority holds any power over me?"
A pause.
"Do you really think I fear your force?"
A flicker of hesitation crossed Ruk's face.
"But... did you forget?" he said weakly. "At the potential check, I helped you. When you were starving, it was me who fed you. It was me who gave you shelter."
Jahad let out a cold, humorless breath. "Because I was beautiful," he said, his voice slicing cleanly through the air. "A fragile young lady, an easy victim of circumstance. You wanted to use me, didn't you?"
Ruk faltered. "No, I... but!"
Jahad did not let him finish. His words came sharp, precise, and merciless.
'You think you were a good man?" he said. "You tell yourself the world forced you to become this way. You helped me when it was convenient to your conscience, and now you feel betrayed because I turned out to be a boy." His eyes hardened. "You're not kind. You're selfish."
Ruk's mouth trembled; he tried to say something, but Jahad didn't let him start.
"You helped me because I was beautiful. Because I was gentle. Because I fit the image that made you feel righteous." His voice dropped, each word weighted with contempt. "You used to do good deeds, didn't you? Not out of mercy but to buy your way into heaven."
He stepped closer.
"Do you know how disgusting that is?" Jahad whispered. "How tragic?"
A thin smile curved his lips. "Your life is nothing but a farce. You're a slave. Not to fate, not to God, but to your own desires."
Ruk could endure no further insult. Rage tore free from his chest as he roared, "Enough! Hand over the relic, now. Else, a war will be inevitable. Think about your master's people." The threat was clumsy, born of desperation, yet he pressed on. "I may not rival your power, but I can still carve a wound deep enough for you to remember me."
Jahad's answer was disarmingly simple.
"Do as you wish."
The moment those words struck Sir Ruk's ears, restraint shattered. His hand clenched into a fist, and the heavens themselves split open. The sky ruptured with an eye-shaped fissure, lightning screaming along its edges, and from that wound in the firmament emerged a thunderous dragon.
It was vast beyond comprehension. So immense that continents seemed to shrink in its presence, so colossal that even a single talon dwarfed entire nations. One could not behold even a fraction of it from any single vantage point; to witness a mere tenth of its form was impossible. The world itself appeared ashamed beneath its shadow.
But the vision did not last.
All of a sudden, everything became normal. Every science-bending authority was gone. The abyss, the dragon, the very laws that had dared to defy reason. Reality folded back into itself, returning to its dull, familiar shape, as though nothing extraordinary had ever occurred.
Then, without a sound, a presence formed behind Sir Ruk.
"Don't be so greedy, Ruk."
Ruk stiffened. He turned slowly, curiosity giving way to dread.
"H-Huh? Lord Blasphemy?" The color drained from his face.
Jahad stared in wonder. "Lord Blasphemy? Why are you here?" The question escaped him before he could stop it.
Lord Blasphemy smiled faintly, his gaze unreadable.
"That can wait," he said calmly. "But first, can we settle this little quarrel of yours?"