Father was right!
I really am too weak.
With small, angry steps, Shuzo stomped through the darkness.
Each step landed like a strike against the earth itself —
as if he could crush his own helplessness beneath his feet.
His fingers dug into the fabric of his white shirt —
so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.
His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts.
Every breath burned like a knife to his throat.
He blinked hard.
I should've just listened to him.
Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes —
burning hot,
as if they wanted to eat through his skin.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't help.
Damn it!
The tears slipped down his cheeks.
I'm just a stupid little boy.
A branch tore across his pants, scraping the skin beneath,
but he barely felt the pain.
Nothing mattered anymore.
What was the point of fighting?
What was the point of proving himself,
when everyone already believed he was weak?
"Spoiled…" he muttered, eyes lowered, his lip trembling.
"What does that even mean?"
His voice came out sharp, desperate — genuinely confused.
Why does everyone always know me better than I do myself?
Why don't I even know who I am?
He stopped abruptly, choking on his sobs.
"Then who am I, anyway?"
But no answer came — only silence.
His shoulders slumped.
Tears fell from his chin, sinking into the ground as if they were taking root there.
"I'm nothing…" he whimpered.
"An idiot who actually believes he could ever become strong."
The words burned into him from the inside out.
Emotions boiled beneath his skin.
His brow furrowed in anger — but smoothed just as quickly.
He didn't know where to put it all — the ache, the anger, the shame.
His face twisted into a painful grimace...
"I just wanted—"
to be someone people liked.
...before the tears finally took him over.
Sobs tore from his chest — loud, ugly, unbearably honest.
"And now… now I'm crying again… like a baby."
His voice had shrunk to a choked whimper.
With trembling hands, he rubbed his eyes — rough, lost.
Alone.
But the hot tears kept coming, unstoppable.
The more he tried to push them away,
the stronger they came back.
"I'm so stupid…
such a failure…"
He bit down hard on his lower lip.
The metallic taste of blood mixed with his sobs.
His knees gave way, wanting to pull him into the earth.
But something inside him resisted.
Still.
A furious sound tore from his throat — raw, defiant.
A prince?
What if I weren't a prince at all?
He braced himself against the invisible chains
that tried to drag him down.
Then everyone would hate me!
His body tensed — and with a single jolt, he broke free.
From his doubts. From his weakness.
He ran.
His legs carried him as if they were made of pure steel.
His boots struck the ground hard.
Once, he slipped — his knees slammed into the mud.
"STUPID FOREST?!"
But he pushed himself up at once.
The pain only drove him further.
He sprinted through the woods.
Black strands of hair lashed against his cheeks,
his tied-back ponytail whipping from side to side.
His green eyes — full of questions.
Mom… how am I supposed to make you happy if all I ever do is cry?
The blades of grass bent aside, almost reverently, as he dashed past them.
Dad… how can I be your son if I can't fight — not like you?
Their glimmering lines shimmered like ancient runes, guiding his path.
The ground was muddy,
the air damp and earthy.
His chest rose and fell until he stepped into the icy wind.
Puffs of breath escaped his lips — dissolving like tiny ghosts into the darkness.
Then the forest opened —
before him lay the Vynesalic steppe:
endless, blooming, cold — yet vast.
The Crystal Blossom Forest shimmered behind him,
casting back a glittering light that mirrored the stars.
Two moons hung above the distant sea,
glowing like eyes that watched him from afar.
The floating roads of the royal city flickered beyond the wall —
draped in holograms,
glowing bright and deceptively alive in the night.
Peace.
Shuzo stared.
Suddenly, the sight within him twisted into something horrifying.
"They're all…"
His voice — barely a whisper.
"Weak."
Bitterness crept into every syllable.
"They live in peace, forgetting their instincts, their fight — they don't even have names anymore—" he murmured.
"And they don't care."
Wächtervampire — denying their own Blutrausch.
Demons — swearing they'll change.
Sirens — who no longer use their voices.
All of it… just an act.
"Everything…"
His pupils constricted, as if he could taste the answer — bitter on his tongue.
"Weaklings…"
That was it.
Exactly that.
They'd lost themselves.
He clenched his fists.
Anger. Frustration.
"And I…
Shuzo Vynesalic…
son of the strongest man in Vynesalic… am supposed to become like them? Just a title?"
His brows twitched — and so did the corner of his mouth, in mockery.
"Tch—"
Never!
His scream broke over the steppe like thunder.
"I'M NOT LIKE YOU — I'M MORE THAN JUST THE PRINCE!"
The night sky trembled.
"I AM SHUZO—"
His voice cracked within its own echo, confused, uncertain:
"…Vynesalic…"
But who was—
Shuzo Vynesalic?
His eyes widened suddenly.
Questioning. Searching.
He didn't know.
Smoke rose along the eastern horizon — blue-red flames suddenly whipped out from the Fire-Wasteland Gorge.
Shuzo flinched back, gasping.
Ryze, the Untergott of Fire.
Somewhere out there, he stood:
"The Shrine of Ryze…" he whispered.
For a brief moment —
then defiance returned:
"Dragon-god, my ass…"
He spat the words out.
"There are enough dragons in this land — what makes him so special!"
Nothing!
His gaze shot further — toward the snow-covered peaks of the Source Mountains.
There — where Ilvana's shrine was said to be hidden, unreachable.
He ground his teeth.
"Untergöttin of Ice… for what? Ice cream?"
Shuzo…
The sea shimmered in silence, black as liquid night.
No storm,
no sea serpent,
no fury.
"Raquora, Untergöttin of Oceanic Wrath… where is that wrath now?"
He laughed —
but nothing about it sounded like joy.
Only pure mockery.
Then, flowered smoke drifted through the air.
Tiny, glowing petals danced past him —
as if they wanted to calm him, to comfort him.
For a single breath, he felt it —
a touch,
warm and gentle, against his cheek.
Like the stories told of the Untergöttin of Regeneration.
He froze.
"Ophelia…" he whispered, startled.
But his face twisted a moment later;
he jerked his head to the side —
out of anger and fear, both at once.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
He wanted to keep running —
then he saw it:
A shadow darted through the grass.
Small, sleek — with fur of soft cream-orange.
Four fox ears,
two large, two small.
Three tails.
Shuzo's heartbeat stumbled.
He stared, breathless.
An orange pond fox…
Caius.
"T–That can't be…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
His body trembled, unable to move.
Then — in the next instant, the creature leapt away.
Silent.
Its silhouette vanished in the direction of the royal city.
"No—wait?!"
He heard his mother's voice again.
The memory.
Ayumi — showing him the book, her hand gently brushing over the picture of the fox.
They say:
"The Untergott of Destruction is always near the Seelenhymne.
Caius… is her second guardian.
If you ever see him, Shuzo —
then the Goddess of Vynesalic is never far away."
Back then, he had only rolled his eyes in annoyance.
But now…
now he stared after the shrinking silhouette, unable to look away.
He had to tell Mother about this!
His breath came rough, the corner of his mouth twitching in disbelief.
"Cool!"
He didn't even notice—
he was no longer alone.
Eyes were glowing in the dark.
Something…
was watching him.
And the stars above no longer felt like friends.
They looked down — cold, ancient.
"What a pitiful sight…"
The deep voice cut through Shuzo's spine like a cold blade.
"What?"
He flinched instantly.
His head jerked up as he stumbled back in blind panic.
His heels dug into the damp earth.
"Wh–Who's there?!" he choked out between sobs.
"Why does a king let his sniveling offspring wander around at night?"
The words sounded smooth, calm —
yet carried a weight that seeped into Shuzo's very bones.
No anger. No mockery —
just a predator that had already decided whether it would bite…
but still wanted to play first.
Sniveling offspring.
Shuzo's heart stumbled.
No — enough!
"I'M NOT CRYING!"
He screamed it into the darkness.
His voice dissolved pitifully into the vast sea of grass.
"My, my…" the stranger replied — almost casually.
Shuzo backed away until his boots brushed against knee-high grass, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
But then —
he found the voice.
His eyes widened in shock.
"What the—?!"
The stranger.
He descended from the air —
so effortlessly that even gravity seemed unworthy to touch him.
He landed softly on his soles, standing motionless —
as if it were his birthright to command the ground beneath him.
Pupilless white eyes fixed on the boy —
empty, emotionless.
A scent hit Shuzo head-on.
At first — lavender, cool, soothing —
then deeper, warmer, wooden,
like polished ebony.
Goosebumps crept up the back of his neck.
He had seen someone like this before.
"Impossible…"
His stomach twisted.
He knew it instantly.
Pupilless eyes.
That face.
Shuzo barely dared to breathe.
His gaze drifted over the figure now standing before him:
The stranger's hair shimmered with a lavender hue, cut into a mullet.
"So this is the prince."
The words came out dry — ice-cold.
Loose strands framed the sharply carved lines of his face.
His cream-colored silk shirt hung open at the collar,
the fabric clinging to his skin.
"No greeting…?"
It revealed the defined lines of his collarbones —
the faint suggestion of toned muscles beneath the thin weave,
appearing with each breath.
"How… uncivilized."
A casual, effortless confession of the power resting within him.
But Shuzo could barely breathe.
"You—"
He couldn't stop staring.
Resting on the stranger's shoulders was a high-collared, ornate coat of heavy, dark gray fabric.
"Go on…" the stranger clicked his tongue.
The cut tapered into a sharp V at the back —
giving his figure a regal silhouette that both captivated and crushed Shuzo.
"Say it…"
Tight, matte leather pants clung to the man's thighs.
Each step traced the lines of his muscles as he suddenly came closer.
"Or have you lost your voice already?"
The dark red, tightly laced boots — reaching nearly to his knees — creaked softly as he moved.
Shuzo swallowed hard — lifting his gaze.
Gravity itself seemed to press against his skin like an invisible net.
"You're—"
It felt as if the earth itself were holding its breath before this figure.
His heart faltered as realization struck:
"A Kriegswächter (War Guardian)…"
The word alone burned like poison on his tongue.
He knew what it meant.
Every Vynerans did.
Whether from ancient texts,
from the trembling voices of old men,
or from the stories told to children
to make them stay silent.
The Kriegswächter were not of this world.
They came from the darkness beyond the stars.
Planet-devourers.
God-slayers.
It was said:
They shattered moons with their bare hands.
Tore the hearts from Untergötter chests
and swallowed them like fruit.
Their bodies were filled with burning veins of gravity —
crushing entire seas into steam,
grinding forests into dust,
and forcing cities to collapse
beneath the weight of invisible mountains.
Some claimed they had seen a Kriegswächter
snap a temple into itself with a single flick of a finger —
as if stone were nothing but rotten wood.
They were hunger in its purest form.
Hunger for power,
for life,
for everything.
And now one of them stood here, before him.
With that unnatural calm —
worse than any threat.
"D–Donovan!" he cried out, voice breaking in desperation.
"No."
The answer came without haste —
a simple, unshakable word.
"Nebruel."
The name itself was a sentence.
Shuzo felt his legs waver — as if the ground beneath him were breaking apart.
Nebruel slowly raised his hand.
His fingers moved with sleek precision —
yet with every subtle bend, his joints cracked.
As though he held the power to press the world down
with nothing but the motion of his bones.
And indeed—
the grass sank in a wave around him,
flattened by an unseen force.
The air grew heavy.
Each breath became a burden.
Shuzo's heart was racing,
his head pounding,
cold sweat running down his back.
"Oh, you mean the demon?"
Nebruel's voice remained quiet — mocking.
There was a hint of amusement in it,
yet his face stayed blank, untouchable.
"I'm afraid…"
He paused —
letting the pressure in the air linger a moment longer.
Then a thin, cutting smile slid across his lips.
"…he won't be coming."
Shuzo gasped for air.
Every part of him wanted to scream,
to run,
to flee—
And in that moment, he knew it was true.
Donovan wouldn't come.
No one would.
He was alone—
alone with the God-Eater,
Nebruel.