Prologue: My only hope

Embrace the darkness. It is your only true friend.

It keeps you alive, binds your wounds, and mends the fractures you thought would never heal. The night is the only salvation humanity has left, the great void that swallows pain and grants relief. It does not judge. It does not ask for permission. It simply is.

And yet…

"I'm a bad person."

Darkness is life. It is the color of blood, thick and warm, seeping from the wounds of the living. It is the cradle in which all things rest, the silent force that even the most emotionless of things—plants, stones, the cold earth—willingly embrace.

"I did something horrible."

Everything depends on it. The smallest of insects, the most insignificant of creatures, and even the beasts that tower over the world in their enormity—each one bends to the void's gentle, suffocating touch. Some call it a blessing. Others, a divine gift.

"Do I need it?"

And yet… it contradicts itself. A blessing of life? A gift from the gods? No. To me, it's torture.

For others, the night is a quiet respite. They close their eyes and, in an instant, light comes. Their fatigue fades, their bodies mend, and they wake refreshed, untouched by the cruel hand of time.

"Help me…"

But for me, there is no peace. My wounds do not heal in restful slumber. I must endure every agonizing second of the process, wide awake, my body burning and twisting as it repairs itself. Sleep comes only once the pain is over. And then, the next day begins, the battle calls, and the cycle repeats.

"It's meaningless."

An endless loop. One I must bear alone. But deep within the most twisted, sinister corners of my mind, I wonder—selfishly, cruelly—if someone else is suffering this same fate. Because if they are, if someone out there knows this pain, then maybe, just maybe, I am not alone in this abyss.

"My only hope."

A new beginning.

***

The air inside the cathedral was heavy, as though time itself hesitated to move. Massive stone pillars loomed above, their surfaces worn with age. The stained glass windows, once shattered in some forgotten battle, had been remade countless times over. The echoes of past voices lingered in the silence.

A man stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the altar. His armor gleamed in pristine white, untouched by dust or blood. A mask obscured his face, long and curved like a bird's beak. His golden eyes shone from behind it, unreadable, unyielding.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Creation." His voice was deep, unwavering. "Have you been waiting long?"

Atop the altar, a woman gazed down at him. Her dark blue hair cascaded over her shoulders, shimmering like the deep ocean. But it was her golden eyes—identical to his—that held an inhuman glow, a divine presence that did not belong to mere mortals.

"Yes," she answered softly. "We have waited for this moment. The moment we can finally unite, Destruction."

The man did not move. His gaze was sharp, analyzing every detail, weighing every word. A silent battle played out between them in the space between breaths.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You know I won't allow it. Death has always been the answer for one of us. Oh, and for the hundreds of thousands of people surrounding this cathedral."

She smiled, a sad, knowing smile. "You needn't concern yourself with them. We have reached a conclusion. Their sacrifice is necessary for the plan. You, however… you are far more valuable."

A pause.

"You've done well, Destruction." Her voice softened, tinged with something akin to pride. "You have achieved what we thought impossible, you've evolved the ability. We still carry memories of your struggle. Your life."

Her eyes dimmed.

"No matter how much we try to argue against it, your death pains us. Yet we cannot compromise the plan." A single tear traced down her cheek, glistening in the dim light. "So let us tell you something, one last time."

Her voice trembled, but her words were resolute.

"We love you."

"You are the success of my countless years of speculation."

"You are my son, my brother, my uncle."

"Even after our deaths, our memories remain, and we still love you."

She held out her hand.

"Come. Join us."

The man stood still. Then, quietly, he said, "I see."

A moment passed, stretching into eternity.

"I feel nothing for any of you." His words were devoid of hesitation. "You may fantasize about different outcomes, about what could have been. But to me, you are strangers. I barely remember your faces."

His golden eyes locked onto hers, unwavering.

"Your love means nothing. Not because I am incapable of love… but because your love is nothing more than a fantasy."

Silence.

She did not respond. Tears still fell from her luminous eyes, but her expression remained unreadable.

And then—

A single step.

In an instant, the entire city vanished.

The cathedral, the towering spires, the countless souls within it—gone. A gaping void remained, stretching endlessly in all directions. The land was silent, the air still. It was as though the city had never existed at all.

One step.

That was all it took.

And then, just as suddenly, it returned.

Buildings reformed, people reappeared, time reset itself as though nothing had changed.

The woman exhaled.

"So this is your plan?" The man, Destruction, tilted his head. "Fighting. Destroying. Rebuilding again and again?" He sighed. "You're bold, Alexia. This is something only you could do. The others wouldn't have approved."

His voice softened, almost amused.

"You've grown… but you still act like a child."

Alexia did not reply.

She lunged.

The battle began.