Bab 1: PRELUDE. Before It All
AND THE WORLD WAS COVERED IN ETERNAL NIGHT. Before darkness was the light stretching beyond the horizon. Dawn greeted the earth, followed by the evening's descent. In the golden glow of daylight, the living thrived. Then came the night that went on for a lifetime. The departed and the spirits beyond life sought safety in the shadows. Some reveled in chaos, while others found peace in the moon's serene light.
The living were not meant for perpetual darkness. They were creations of God, formed by His hands and molded into the beings they were. They were social beings, born to live within each other's embrace. He crafted the world—the universe—as their home. He scattered stars across the sky, beacons of hope for those lost in the abyss where despair gripped tightly.
In a distant realm, across the vast seas, they spoke of God in myriad forms, each excelling in their domains. Some blessed farmers with bountiful harvests, guided swordsmiths, protected children, and sanctified marriages and childbirths. Others served as beacons of hope, offering solace and inspiration in times of need. Chaos balanced all good things in this world, and thus, there were also those who brought wreckage into the universe.
In a faraway world said to float above the ocean, the gods were revered as celestial beings. They upheld the order and balance of the universe, presiding over all without favoring one side over the other.
Yet, why did the world remain shrouded in darkness? Were not the gods meant to uphold order, to maintain balance? There was no light without darkness, and no darkness without light. Pain and joy found comfort in each other, while goodness contended with evil.
Why can I not see my own hands, reaching out in search of something to grasp, something to connect with? Have I descended into the abyss that once swallowed men whole? The hole of despair that is said to hollow out the human heart.
Why can I not hear their voices, laughing and giggling as they once did? Have my ears grown deafened by the years, unaware of how long I have languished in this void of emptiness? There is nothing to see, nothing to hear, and nothing to find.
What am I feeling, I wonder.
Does this emptiness in my chest, pulling so painfully, count as an emotion? Does my anguish yearn for freedom? Can ceaseless pain find relief in release from this realm? Is the search for acknowledgment, belonging, and purpose the essence of my pursuit? What truth does my soul crave?
In this boundless depth of the world, the familiar light has vanished. I no longer behold the world I grew up in, the world I loved and knew. Everything is cloaked in crimson, as though the universe itself merges with the stars, blazing brightly in the sky of darkness. The continuity of my origin—past, present, future—I wish to forsake. Yet, fragments of memory persist.
With each blink, nightmares besiege me, blanketing the world in disturbing silence, devoid of wonder and color. Time slips away in this eerie stillness, and relentless thoughts repeat like a broken record, urging me to accept a reality I struggle to define. They haunt me as I sink deeper into the shadows, consumed entirely by the chaos that ignites the war between worlds.
Everything lies in ruin, engulfed in a sea of flames. Roaring through the air are cries for help, painful shrieks, and haunting wails of children's voices—I hear them all. Even in death, the souls of the dead yearn for release, yet the world binds them still.
The deceased cannot die twice, yet their cries of grief made me ponder if such a thing were possible. Spirits took shape in myriad forms, manifestations of human fears, lingering emotions, and ancient relics. They inhabited a realm beyond our own, unseen by mortal eyes. Unlike humans, they existed as supernatural beings, otherworldly and beyond the comprehension of the human mind.
Essentially, they were "dead."
So, why do tears stream down my cheeks as fire consumes the ogres before me?
Their proud figures are no longer visible, only eroding under the tongues of amber.
Why do I find myself sprinting?
The faint whispers of playful fox spirits from my past beckoned me onward as the ground trembled and split, revealing a gaping chasm tearing through the earth's surface. The sight etched itself into my memory, a vivid reminder of the world's upheaval. The searing pain of being thrown aside by them urged me to flee, but it paled in comparison to the guilt festering within me, gnawing relentlessly.
Why do I find myself crying in someone's embrace?
As we sliced through the wind and sky, he paid no mind to my blood and tears staining his clothes crimson. Beside us, others soared, forming a protective barrier at our sides and rear. Their eyes locked on the pursuing threat, restraining themselves to uphold the pledge we made—to spare every soul in our path.
Even as the blades scorched their skin, cutting through flesh and painting the ground red, they honored their oath. Even when faced with human disdain, they remained true to their word.
Why did I make them promise?
It was a mistake. Everything was a mistake. I should have let them kill those humans as they pleased. Then, they wouldn't have had to die. Then, they wouldn't have left me alone—bereft in this desolate void.
I remember what they did—what those humans spitefully did. It all floods back to me.
In the engulfing darkness, overwhelming rage courses through me, boiling to its peak. Death claimed everyone I knew, my home reduced to ashes, and my friends mercilessly slain, leaving only desolation. Humans, humans, humans—everything—everyone's gone because of them.
It makes me wonder how humans would feel if that promise never existed. I imagine how it all might have turned out. Would they still be alive if I hadn't made them that promise? Would karma come biting back? Would they scream in agony, begging for mercy? Or would they triumph over us, as God's perfect little creation?
In this realm of torment, the unknown suffer under the dominion of those who claim authority. Betrayal befalls the weak, and the kind are crushed. The odd and different are shunned, and the unseen evoke fear. Their pretense of grandeur conceals their inherent powerlessness, dependence on mana, and trembling in the face of the unknown and the incomprehensible. Truly, what kind of perfect creation would be so distrustful of the world? Have understanding and acceptance left their hearts no room for those less fitting in society?
I don't understand. None of these feelings make any sense to me.
I hate them. I want to kill them all. I want them to suffer. I want them to feel the same pain my family felt. I'll damn their status system and whatever inflates their egos to such heights. Curse the malice they inflicted upon those different from themselves—I condemn them all.
And it all happened because of that one promise I compelled them to make.
That promise that turned out empty. For me. And for them.
⠀
"Promise me that you won't ever hurt anyone."
⠀
"I vow that a day will come when peace will revive in our world. Harmony will unite us all, and no soul will face a tragic fate. There will be no more wars, where blood is spilled in vain. There will be no fear among kin, no scorn. I envision a dream of a grand world, united, where we all stand hand in hand."
⠀
But mark my words: One day, when I rise from the dead, I will hunt them down. I'll find each of them and repay them in kind. Then, I'll reduce the world to ashes—just as they burned us.
But will that resolve everything?
Will I ever see you again?
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone