May 17, 2030.
The Third World War had already been raging for three years.
Extremely powerful and dangerous weapons had wiped out humanity with a brutality never seen in any previous war. The world's population had been reduced by half. Over the past three years, it was not only lives that were lost. Some people lost their dreams, some lost their peaceful worlds, and others lost their emotions.
Now, humanity thought of only one thing:
"WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE THIS?"
As with all wars, this one also created demons and heroes.
But there was a difference.
The heroes who witnessed the hell created not by demons, but by humans themselves, were nothing like the pure and merciful figures from fairy tales. On the contrary, they were merciless and cruel.
There was only one reason for this.
To save humanity, they killed humans.
They did not fight demons or other beings—they fought humans themselves. Here, demons, devils, angels… all were human. How could someone who had stained their hands with the blood of millions on the battlefield call themselves a hero?
And yet, to save the lives of billions, they slaughtered millions.
I am one of those so-called heroes.
Before the war, since childhood, I had been a world champion in MMA—no rules fighting. At the same time, I had always stood out among my peers due to my intelligence. I was distinguished by my education and creativity. My dream had always been to become a soldier.
That was why, when I reached the appropriate age, I entered a military academy through officer examinations. During my education in the army, I always stood out due to my abilities. I became a Captain of the Special Forces.
Of course, it did not end there.
In the early days, before the great war began, I participated in countless operations across several countries. In all of them, I achieved great success without losses.
When the war started, I already held the rank of Colonel and was stationed on the front lines.
I fought against many nations.
Zero defeats—but this time, losses were inevitable.
Without losses, there is no victory.
Yet instead of ending, the war only grew more violent.
Despite my young age, I became the youngest General of the war era. Several countries awarded me the title of their national hero for fighting to protect their territorial integrity.
During the war, I was called by many names:
Army General, World Hero, Supreme Commander…
But among them all, the one that suited me best was the Angel of Chaos.
Because unlike other generals, my hands were stained with the blood of the greatest number of people. That is why I never considered myself a hero. How could someone who killed millions call himself a hero?
This, of course, is my personal belief.
To the people, however, I was a hero.
On the battlefield, I learned one thing:
Never trust anyone. Never show mercy.
Because at any moment, they can stab you in the back.
In short, only those with an unbreakable will survive war. If you drown in the lives you have taken or the dreams that die before your eyes, then you will die as well.
It is that simple.
That is why I can never imagine the war truly ending. Because the hardest part is not ending the war.
The hardest part is living a normal life after this war… after this hell.
How can someone who is this powerful a warrior, someone whose hands are stained with the blood of millions, ever live a normal life?
That is the hardest question of all.
At the same time… in another world
The Chaos Empire was one of the strongest and largest nations in this world—at least, it had been for several hundred years. That remained true until recently.
After the death of the Emperor, a young successor ascended the throne. He was utterly incompetent. He chased pleasure, understood nothing of politics or governance, and was seen by all as weak and incapable.
The only heir ascended the throne.
This led to rebellions among the nobility and powerful bloodlines tearing apart imperial lands. The collapse of the empire was only delayed by one event.
When the Demon Army launched its war upon the world, the conflicts against the Chaos Empire came to an end. The reason was simple.
The empire stood directly at the border of the demon territories.
Everyone knew the Demon Army's overwhelming strength. No one wished to risk losses by fighting over these lands. The plan was obvious: when the demons attacked, the Chaos Empire would be used as bait.
And so it happened.
The demon armies conquered several border territories of the Chaos Empire. At the time, the empire was consumed by internal conflicts and paid little attention to those lands. The Emperor's authority was meaningless. Even the palace was ruled by ministers.
The army generals held command only because of their ranks—not because of competence. They sought glory and power.
The people were dragged into complete misery.
Even when uprisings occurred, they were brutally suppressed. At the very least, this was what the generals excelled at—oppressing their own people.
The Emperor had been weak since childhood, and recently he had grown gravely ill. His condition worsened with each passing day.
More than anything else, what devoured him from within was the destruction of a centuries-old empire before his very eyes.
And he could do nothing.
He merely watched.
Because of his weakness, he was utterly miserable. First, the people he once admired and respected left him. Then, the woman he loved. Then, his empire. And finally, little by little, his life itself slipped from his hands.
He tried to act several times, but it was useless. Instead, he only made himself appear more ridiculous.
In his dreams, he always imagined himself as a legendary hero. He envisioned raising his sword toward the sky with his right hand after a great victory and shouting:
"LONG LIVE THE CHAOS EMPIRE!"
But it was only a dream.
It was something heroes of the empire's past had done after their victories. For him, it was utterly impossible.
Even in childhood sword training, he had never been skilled. As the crown prince, he did whatever he wished, and no one dared to oppose him.
Now, he regretted everything.
Because he had no one left.
A man with no true friends, surrounded only by false relationships. Now even those were gone. All that remained was a slowly growing sorrow and pain.
There was nothing he could do except finish his final moments as Emperor.
Even if he tried, it would be meaningless.
All he could do was observe the people around him and see their true faces. The ministers treated him like a useless puppet, excluding him entirely from decision-making.
To them, he was merely a decorative ornament on the throne.
A man with no one and no help, trapped among true demons, left powerless by his own mistakes.
At some point, he did the only thing left to him.
He chose silence.