Ana's kidnapping by the bandits filled Atom's heart with a storm of dread. He ran toward the Mountain of Nori, but to reach there, he had to pass through the King's castle — and that was nearly impossible.
The air itself had changed. The once-calm castle now stood drowned in chaos. Word had spread — the King's only son, heir to the throne, had been slain.
When the news reached him, the King, seated upon his golden throne, erupted in wrath. With a single strike of his hand, he shattered the throne beneath him and rose, his voice echoing through the marble halls.
"BRING THAT BOY TO ME!!" he roared.
Lightning flashed across the sky. The heavens seemed to echo the King's fury. The court trembled — servants fled, guards knelt, and the storm outside howled as though sharing his rage. The crown slipped from his head, rolling down the shattered steps, as he stood there — eyes burning red with grief and vengeance.
Outside, the soldiers gathered in formation — the rising sun crest blazing on their backs, the mark of royal command. Behind them stood the Minister of War, his crimson cape snapping in the wind. The glint of their steel armor mirrored the lightning as he raised his sword and shouted,
"Find him! Search every corner of this land! Whoever he is — even if he's just a child — bring him to me alive!"
The soldiers roared in unison, their voices drowning beneath the thunder, before galloping out in every direction — east, west, north, and south — sweeping through the villages and forests.
In the southern woods, a group of horsemen rode hard toward the Mountain of Nori. The rain hit their helmets like stones. One soldier muttered,
"Who do you think did it? Who would dare kill the prince?"
Another replied, tightening his reins, "Doesn't matter. Whoever he is, he's already as good as dead."
The storm raged louder — and far ahead, hidden beneath the trees, Atom was already running toward the mountain.
The east side was chaos — thunder roared, lightning cracked the skies, and rain lashed down like the King's own wrath.
"Hurry up! Find him!" The soldiers shouted through the storm, their armor flashing white under each strike of lightning.
The west side trembled under the typhoon. The Villagers hid inside their homes, whispering prayers. "Today is the day…" someone murmured. The wind was so fierce it could lift a man off his feet.
"This is bad! Keep searching!" a soldier yelled, his voice nearly swallowed by the storm.
The north side burned. Flames danced against the dark rain, lighting the faces of soldiers who questioned every villager they found.
"Who killed the next king? Speak!!"
Inside a small wooden house, a child hid with his mother. The boy was wounded, trembling as his mother covered his mouth. Through a crack in the wall, he saw men being slaughtered in the street. His wide, shaking eyes filled with terror, but his scream never escaped — his mother's hand silenced him.
"Don't make a sound," she whispered, voice trembling. "They'll come here… we have to get out."
She held him close, and together they crawled toward the back door, hoping the storm would hide them. But a soldier's sharp eyes caught the movement.
"There! Someone's running!"
"She must know something!"
"Stop right there!"
Spears flew through the rain. The mother, clutching her child, ran with all her strength, her bare feet splashing through the mud.
"They're aiming!" she realized — and in a split-second of pure instinct, she turned, lifting her son high.
"If they catch me… what will happen to him?"
Without another thought, she threw her child forward — far into the safety of the wet grass — and faced the soldiers alone.
"RUN!!!" she screamed, her voice breaking through the storm.
The child lay on the muddy ground, blood seeping from his wounds.
"RUN!!!" his mother screamed, her voice breaking through the storm. She stood between her son and the soldiers, hands trembling, eyes burning with defiance.
"RUN! ESCAPE!"
But the child couldn't move. His small body shook, his knees refusing to hold him up. Through the rain, he watched his mother swing wildly, trying to protect him with bare hands.
"RUN AND LIVE!!!" she shouted again — her last plea echoing in his heart.
The child's hand twitched. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up.
"Stand up... and run," he whispered, repeating her words.
"Stand up, dear! Run!" his mother's fading voice carried through the thunder.
Even as her body fell to the ground, lifeless — her spirit seemed to push him forward.
The child ran.
He ran until the soldiers disappeared behind the storm.
He ran until the cries were only memories.
Crying and gasping, he whispered, "Run and live… run and live."
Tears mixed with the rain as he stumbled through the darkness toward the ocean.
"I must run and live... for my mother… for the dream I saw…"
Behind him, the soldiers stopped their pursuit.
"Did he escape?" one asked.
The captain spat into the mud, glaring toward the mountains. "He's gone."
A loud BOOM split the air — a crimson firework flared high above the storm clouds.
The signal of the red flame.
They had found something.
And the Soldier Minister was on his way.
The Soldier Minister, drenched from the storm, rode through the flooded streets toward the castle.
The crimson firework still burned faintly above the horizon.
He had seen the signal.
He knew what it meant.
When he reached the east gate, soldiers bowed and cleared the path. The rain fell like shards of glass as he entered the ruined courtyard. There — lying in the mud — was the body of the mother.
Her chest pierced clean through by a spear. Blood still pooled beneath her, mixing with the rain.
The Minister knelt beside her lifeless form, eyes grim.
"Your Majesty," he spoke, "we found the woman. The child escaped."
Footsteps echoed through the storm.
The King appeared — his robe torn, his crown gone, his eyes burning with divine insanity. He walked to the corpse and pressed his boot against her face.
A whisper left his lips — cold and merciless.
"God's Command: Puppet…"
The air itself trembled.
A golden light shimmered from his hand and flowed into the body. The woman's eyes snapped open, now hollow and lifeless. Her broken limbs moved like a marionette.
"Who killed my son?"
The King's voice was calm — too calm.
The puppet's head twitched, and in a broken voice she uttered,
"...The criminal..."
The King's eyes widened — madness flashing in them.
Thunder struck. A blinding bolt crashed down upon her, turning the woman into ash before anyone could breathe.
The Minister stepped back, shielding his face from the heat.
He dared not speak.
The King stood silent for a moment… then began to laugh.
A twisted, delirious laughter that echoed through the shattered hall.
"He's here…" the King muttered, his grin widening.
"He's here."
Then, he turned to the Minister. His voice rose like thunder.
"Prepare the banners. Summon every sword, every soldier—"
His hand trembled with rage and joy alike.
"DECLARE WAR!"
Lightning flashed again, painting his face in the color of blood.
The War of the King's Command had begun.
The Soldier Minister dropped to one knee before the raging King.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Without hesitation, he sprinted through the corridors, rain and thunder chasing him. Outside, he lifted his arm to the sky and fired a yellow firework.
The flare burst above the dark clouds — blazing like a golden sun — the signal of war.
Across every direction — north, south, east, and west — the light was seen.
Soldiers stopped in their tracks. Villagers froze mid-step. The world seemed to hold its breath.
"What… is that?"
"The yellow flare?"
"No… it can't be—"
"THE DECLARATION OF WAR!"
Fear spread faster than the thunder that followed. The heavens themselves seemed to bow under the King's wrath.
Far from the castle, Atom stood before the colossal wall — the very wall guarding the King's fortress.
Its height devoured the sky, its shadow swallowing the earth. No mortal could ever climb it.
Raindrops slid down his face as he tightened his grip on the spear.
His voice was low, yet heavy with resolve.
"Behind that wall… my sister is waiting for me."
He closed his eyes, raising his hand toward the big wall.
"Lord Almighty: Nifl."