Chapitre 1: Chapter 1 Between Tombs and princesses
The sky lit up with a crimson hue as a massive mushroom cloud rose majestically among the clouds, visible to hundreds of thousands of people. Unfortunately, it was the last sight they would ever see.
The only silver lining of the situation was that both the pain and fear were short-lived. The shockwave claimed the lives of several million inhabitants in just a few seconds. The devastating bomb that shook the country was so powerful that it pulverized several of its cities.
The palace was located about 500 km from the epicenter of the explosion, and yet its walls crumbled. Much of the imposing and luxurious palace was destroyed along with the royal city, like a sandcastle swept away by a sea breeze.
Within the palace, standing next to the king, was the man who was not only considered the most loyal in the kingdom but also his mentor, teacher, advisor, and friend. He stood motionless in the face of the storm that assailed him. It was at that moment, when the wind violently moved his hood, that the king could see under the black cloak he never took off, a smile of satisfaction, the smile of someone who had done their job well. Perhaps it was a divine revelation, or maybe the king already knew it deep down: his advisor, the person who had made him the king of the most powerful country in the world, had betrayed him.
That distinctive emblem, a simple black cloak with a crescent moon-shaped medallion forged from unknown materials, shone with a faint red hue like the blood of hundreds of millions of people on his hands.
At some point, that medallion had symbolized glory and prosperity. Now, it danced mockingly before the king's eyes, in tune with the strong, scorching winds that turned the great monarch and his kingdom to dust in just a few seconds.
For the man in the black cloak, this hadn't been just one of the many kingdoms he had raised only to destroy. This one had been special because, with this act of genocide, he completed one of the final steps towards his ultimate ambition. At last, after a long wait, his most significant desire would become a reality.
He glanced for a moment at his puppet, the fool he had made believe he was a king, as it crumbled along with his legacy.
The man in the black cloak, seemingly emotionless, exited the throne room as if it were a normal day. He walked through what had only been bustling streets filled with merchants, pedestrians, animals, and prosperity just minutes before, streets that were now nothing more than a vast desert of acidic sands. Even though the breeze corroded everything in its path, he remained unscathed and unmoved by the strong winds. Even the terrible dust storm posed no annoyance to his visibility. After what he had lived through, walking amidst such a tragedy posed no discomfort to him.
25 Years after the Destruction of Atlan
A slender body flew between the tombstones of a no longer silent cemetery. The body traced an arc over the graves as a terrible roar echoed in the background, accompanied by a chorus of unearthly moans and groans. Like a ragdoll tossed by an angry child, the young man, dressed in a stylish school uniform, had a better view than anyone else of the scene that seemed to be taken from a bad horror movie.
Bony hands clawed their way to the surface as the full moon added an even more ghastly touch to the place, casting eerie shadows from the dry tree branches and illuminating the already terrifying hundreds of reanimated corpses emerging from their graves.
The stench of decaying bodies nauseatingly filled the air, but that was the least of his concerns. One of those corpses had thrown him with such force that it broke several of his ribs, sending him soaring more than 10 meters before falling, quite literally, into his grave. Although it all happened in just a few seconds, time seemed to slow down for the boy.
He felt a gentle breeze rustling the dry branches of the trees as if spirits were playfully swinging in the midst of the most bizarre midnight party one could imagine. The cawing of crows mixed with the strange sounds created by the horde of the undead rising before his eyes, providing a macabre soundtrack to the scene as the boy's helpless body flew over the place.
His eyes locked with those of a beautiful young woman with hair as red as blood, skin as white as marble, and pink lips so perfect that, for him, they were a pair of immensely powerful magnets that trapped his gaze every time he saw them, hopelessly hypnotizing him.
The infatuation the hapless young man felt for this girl was such that, daily, he had to resist the urge to fall to his knees before her, swearing his eternal love.
"At least it's a beautiful last sight," he thought just as he felt his neck snap upon landing on the edge of a tombstone. Although he could feel the pain of being split in two, he wasn't a doctor, he didn't even know the difference between an artery and a vein, so he could only guess. His injuries were severe. He tried to move his body as it rolled lifelessly until another tombstone stopped him cold.
"Maybe it's not as bad as it seems, maybe I'll wake up in a hospital bed and everything will turn out fine," he told himself as he felt the inability to breathe, the blood in his neck choking him and the world around him gradually turning red.
However, it was curious; he felt no pain, no fear, just an immense cold.
"Is this dying?" It was hard to deny reality. Although deep down he wished to wake up in a hospital, he knew that wasn't realistic. He hadn't expected his death to be so bizarre, especially on the day he had finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings to the woman who drove him mad.
"What a bad joke," he thought. "Isn't this when I'm supposed to see my life flash before my eyes?"
It was disappointing; there was nothing he could remember, as if his life had simply not existed, even for himself.
"I'm only 17, after all, I haven't lived that much," he tried to console himself, but he knew it – his life had been a waste.
He looked at one of the walking corpses approaching him.
"Why didn't I tell her how I felt sooner?" he scolded himself, lamenting as weak tears rolled down his cheeks. His eyes displayed the sadness that only those who have lost everything can experience.
The only name on his mind was that of the girl with mysterious brown eyes that were almost red, matching her hair, her pale skin, and her beautiful lips. If he could have, he would have sold his soul at that very moment, just for five more minutes – five minutes to tell her he loved her.
As if it were Death itself, the undead creature that had thrown him like a cheap doll stood before him, ready to deliver the finishing blow.
Reflexively, he closed his eyes, awaiting the final strike. It was curious, the boy in class smitten with the most attractive and sought-after girl in school, a cliché that only ends well in movies.
Not that he was in a hurry, but the blow was taking longer than usual. He hadn't decided whether to open his eyes when he felt a soft, warm sensation on his lips, which forced him to open his eyes in surprise.
"Diane!" he didn't know whether it was heaven or hell that answered his prayer, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that the girl he had secretly loved was now giving him his first and last kiss.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
DaoistviT5Rj
DaoistviT5Rj Well, more than a year has passed since I last posted on this page, unfortunately due to work issues I have not been able to dedicate time to what I like the most, telling stories, these are complicated times of dissatisfaction where nothing is ever up to par, I live it constantly in my work, even so I risk publishing this story again, which is probably my favorite, I have a fondness for this novel because it was the first one that I managed to finish in my life, and now I will share it with you, please be lenient with this server, and with all my heart I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone