How many years has it been?
Am I still alive?
…No, that can't be. Right?
I sighed inwardly, if sighing was even possible in this state. The question had gnawed at me for what felt like an eternity. Time didn't move here—not forward, not backward. Just stillness.
Where… is this place?
I couldn't even move my lips to speak. My limbs—if I still had any—refused to respond. My senses were hollow, empty. No walls, no ground, no light. Just darkness. A darkness so complete it swallowed even the concept of form.
Despite all the time—years, perhaps centuries—I had spent in this wretched void, I couldn't feel anything. No cold. No warmth. No hunger. No breath.
Only one thing remained.
Pain.
Unrelenting pain.
Not just in the body—no, something far deeper. My very soul felt as if it had been torn, shredded, and scattered across the abyss. Over and over again.
So… this is what they call divine retribution?
Tch. So what?
I tried to smile at the thought, but I couldn't even feel the muscles of my face.
Hah. If this is the best a god can do, then how pitiful. You're not omnipotent. You're just… inadequate.
If this is punishment for my actions, then so be it. I do not regret them. I never will.
Given the chance to live again, I would make the same choices. Again and again—without hesitation.
Because my goal was never to live a righteous life. My goal was never to earn mercy or peace.
It was to become a true god.
Not like those pathetic beings bound by rules and chains. Not those celestial jailers who preach virtue while hiding behind their divine mandates.
These so-called "religious" fools believe that eternal peace can be bought through worship. They chant blindly, kneel obediently, and brand anyone who dares think differently a heretic.
Hmph. I scoffed at the memory. Especially at the words that bastard pope had once said to Charlotte:
"Everything is under God's control. Not even a single leaf moves without His will."
How foolish.
They take pride in being slaves. They worship their chains.
And when someone dares to reach beyond—when someone like me dares to defy the divine—they hide behind morals, honor, and kindness… as if those words were sacred weapons.
But to me, they were nothing but illusions.
There is nothing that can bind me.
Not love.
Not kindness.
Nothing can move my resolve.
I refuse to bow my head in defeat. If you wish to reform my soul, then give up.
Not even you, gods, can change me.
And not just this once—if I were to live a hundred lives, I would pursue the same goal with the same unyielding resolve. Again and again.
…Sigh.
What am I even thinking?
I'm already dead, aren't I?
I whispered to myself, if whispering was still possible, as fragmented memories clawed their way back to me. The final moments before the void. Before this prison of silence.
I remembered it clearly now.
The cold bite of a blade.
The numbness.
The silence after my head was severed.
Killed… by the successor of one of the Five Great Houses—Cyan Drake.
Cyan Drake, huh?
Is that what people mean when they speak of being "blessed by the gods"?
He reached 4th Severance in his early twenties—a height that had taken me sixty years of obsession, betrayal, and sacrifice to achieve.
And yet… even though we stood in the same realm, he was stronger.
Stronger by a margin that I could feel with every bone-cracking blow, every heartbeat before death.
That man… no, that child—he didn't just inherit talent.
He embodied divine favoritism.
And I—who had clawed my way through blood and madness—was discarded like a failed experiment.
As I tried to close my eyes, seeking escape from the torment that clung to my very soul, I noticed something—
Something different.
In the far distance, there was a light.
Faint, yet unmistakably there—a gentle glow that shimmered in the void like a dying star. But unlike the coldness that surrounded me, this light… gave warmth.
Despite being far away, I could feel its magnificence radiating through the emptiness. It was… alive. Unlike anything I'd felt in this timeless prison.
I tried to move toward it, to raise a limb, to take a single step.
But this damn body still wouldn't respond.
Move.
Move, you damn thing!
I cursed inwardly, frustration boiling over—until suddenly, I froze.
Wait.
Did I just… speak?
My thoughts hadn't just echoed in my mind. I had spoken the words. Audibly.
And not just that—there was something else.
A faint tingle. My fingertips—yes, I could feel them. Sensation was returning.
As if answering my unspoken prayers, a rush of something surged through me. Life. It coursed through my body like water flowing over sun-scorched earth. My breath returned. My chest rose and fell.
I was alive.
Or something close to it.
My legs trembled as strength gathered in my muscles, and slowly—unsteadily—I stood. The ground didn't exist, yet I moved. Step by step, I walked toward that distant warmth.
I didn't know why.
I couldn't explain it.
But I needed to touch that light.
The urge was overwhelming, primal. Like thirst in the desert. Like a starving man reaching for a crumb.
As if answering that desperate desire, more power welled up inside me. Strength poured in from nowhere. My limbs, once stiff as stone, now moved with surprising grace. I looked down.
My body—bare, unmarred—had changed.
Gone were the wrinkles and scars earned over decades of obsession and war. My form… it was growing younger.
It was subtle, barely noticeable at first. But I could feel it. My bones were lighter. My skin was tighter. My breath—steadier.
*****
As I ran toward the light, time flowed like water—slipping past without rhythm or measure.
Days… months… years?
I had no idea how much time had passed.
All I knew was that I hadn't stopped running. Not even once. And strangely, despite never resting, I felt no fatigue. My legs moved endlessly, as if pulled by something greater than will alone.
As I drew closer, I noticed something odd.
I was younger.
My body—yes, it looked like it did when I was twelve. Small limbs, softer skin, a body untouched by war or time. My long black hair flowed behind me, reaching my waist like a shadow in motion.
I couldn't see my reflection—there were no mirrors, no surfaces—but I reached up, touched my face.
Gone was the stiffness and sharpness of age.
It was soft.
Delicate.
Like a child's.
As these thoughts passed through my mind, I finally reached it—the edge of the light.
But this was no ordinary glow.
It was majestic, blinding in its beauty—so vast it could swallow even the South Sea in its brilliance. A radiance so pure it made the darkness behind me feel like a forgotten dream.
And then, without hesitation…
I jumped.
I plunged into the light without fear, without doubt.
The moment I crossed that threshold, my vision was overwhelmed. Pure white filled every corner of my sight, every fiber of my soul.
I tried to shut my eyes—tried to shield myself—
Ugh…!
A pain struck me.
Not pain of the body.
This was deeper.
A torment that made the agony I had endured earlier feel like a gentle breeze.
It was as if every piece of me—every memory, every sin, every thought—was being unraveled.
So… in the end, it was a mere trap, huh?
How foolish.
I sighed, mocking myself even now.
Was this all part of some divine plot?
But then—
Something changed.
Not just in my body…
In my soul.
I tried to open my eyes—but before I could, the light surged again.
And I was swallowed whole.
Then… silence.
And once again—I lost my senses.