#1 Living in another world 1

week had passed since the three great cities of Grim Hical were bombed by the Allied forces. After receiving their message, the king had no choice but to raise the white flag, surrendering as they had demanded. 

The king knew that surrendering meant admitting defeat, something he had hesitated to do at first. But as he gazed upon the ruins of the three cities, as he counted the countless lives lost in the flames, he realized there was no point in continuing this war. His army's morale had plummeted, while the Allied forces grew stronger in spirit. Even if he wished to fight on, his highest general, Grim Hical himself, had advised surrender. 

Without Grim, the king knew he was powerless. Grim had been the true leader of the battlefield, the mind behind every strategy that had allowed their kingdom to stand against the overwhelming might of the Allies. If the king were to take command now, it would only lead to an even greater catastrophe. 

And so, the war ended—but with a price. 

Today was the day of Grim's execution. 

When the kingdom agreed to surrender, the leaders of the Allied forces demanded only one thing: Grim Hical's life. To them, the king was insignificant. The true threat had always been Grim, the mastermind who had turned his soldiers into hunters and the enemy into prey. His strategies had made the war unbearable for the Allies, and they had resorted to the unthinkable—bombing three entire cities—to put an end to his reign of terror. 

Now, shackled in chains, Grim walked toward the execution site. His once-vibrant red hair was now dull and lifeless. The king had initially refused to hand Grim over, but in the end, his authority had meant nothing. The decision had already been made. 

Yet Grim had not protested. 

Instead, he had come before the king himself, offering his own life in exchange for the safety of the royal family. The Allies agreed without hesitation. After all, the only life they truly desired was Grim's. 

Now, as he approached the guillotine, the people of the kingdom wept. To the Allied forces, Grim was a nightmare—a relentless force that had kept them from victory. But to the citizens of the kingdom, Grim was their protector. Because of him, their losses had been far fewer than those of their enemies. 

Tears fell like rain, and cries of grief filled the air. But Grim remained unaffected. 

Even in the face of death, he felt nothing. 

He did not mourn the kingdom's defeat. He did not hate the Allies for their cruelty. This was war, after all. There were only victors and the defeated, and Grim had found himself on the losing side. 

He could no longer remember why this war had started. He had no grand ideals, no noble cause that had driven him to the battlefield. Even his decision to take command had not been driven by patriotism. It had been something far simpler, something so meaningless that even a young man yearning for a new phone to contact his lover had a more honorable reason. 

And now, it was time. 

A man standing by the guillotine raised an axe and swung it down, severing the rope. 

The blade fell. 

With a sickening finality, Grim's head was severed from his body. 

The wails of the people grew louder. More tears were shed than blood spilled. If those tears could be gathered, they would have drowned the battlefield itself. 

Yet with Grim's death, the world began to change. 

Nations and kingdoms, weary of war, came together to sign peace treaties. Slowly, the world began to heal. Corpses that had once littered the land decayed into the earth. Flies carried the seeds of flowers, scattering them upon the fallen. From death, life emerged—lush greenery covering the graves of the past. 

The world was becoming a better place. 

And for Grim, this was also a beginning. 

A New Awakening

Slowly, Grim's eyes opened. 

Before him stretched an endless expanse of white. Was it clouds? Or mist? 

There was nothing else. No sky, no ground—only this vast, featureless whiteness. 

"Is this heaven?"

It was the only thought that crossed his mind. 

Grim had never been particularly religious, but he had heard stories of paradise—a place of eternal peace, free from war, suffering, and death. If such a place truly existed, he would not mind if this was it. 

But after a moment, doubt crept in. 

How could a sinner like him enter heaven? 

Perhaps this was a prison instead—a place where he would be trapped for eternity. If so, he did not mind. 

At least there were no corpses, no rivers of blood flowing through shattered streets. No cries of pain, no endless battlefields filled with death. 

With a sigh, Grim lay down. 

There was no soft pillow beneath his head, yet he felt comfortable. His body was light, free from the burdens of war. 

He closed his eyes. 

Then, a voice rang out. 

"Are you really going to sleep here?"