The moon hung in the sky like an unblinking eye, tinted with a crimson shade, as if the heavens themselves were warning the world of something yet to be born. Darius did not look at it for long, yet he felt its presence—its weight—as though that moon was watching him alone, waiting for his first step.
He walked through a nearly abandoned street, surrounded by old buildings that had long lost their purpose. Their walls carried the scars of generations that had passed, leaving behind nothing but cracks and silence. His footsteps were calm, steady, the steps of a man who knew exactly where he was going, even if no one else did.
He stopped in front of a small house. Its dark wooden door looked ordinary to the point of suspicion. Without hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked once—firm and deliberate, a declaration of presence that did not ask for permission.
Silence followed. Then the door slowly opened.
A man appeared, his features worn, his eyes carrying a mix of laziness and mockery, as if the world had disappointed him long ago and he had chosen to laugh at it instead of fighting it. His gaze swept over Darius briefly, indifferent.
The visit was unexpected. The hour was late.
Darius remained where he stood, his voice calm, neither raised nor lowered.
He had come to see him.
The man found the situation amusing. An eyebrow lifted slightly. This timing, of all times?
Darius simply confirmed it. This was the right moment.
The door opened wider. A careless posture followed, curiosity mixed with humor. What could possibly be so important?
Darius did not step inside. His eyes moved briefly toward the darkness beyond the doorway, then returned, steady and unshaken.
He had come with an invitation.
A light laugh escaped, the kind that precedes mockery. An invitation, from a stranger?
There was a pause—short, controlled—then Darius spoke, without hesitation, without decoration, as though stating a simple truth that needed no explanation.
It was time to rule the world.
For a single second, the air froze.
Then laughter erupted—long, genuine laughter. The kind that bends the body and brings tears to the eyes.
Ruling the world?
Did he hear himself?
The laughter continued, loud and sincere, while Darius remained unmoved. No anger crossed his face. No smile appeared. His gaze stayed fixed, as if the laughter was not meant for him, but for something far smaller.
Gradually, the laughter faded.
Something was wrong.
Darius had not reacted.
The question finally surfaced, stripped of mockery, carrying a hint of uncertainty. Was he serious?
Completely.
Darius took a single step forward. His voice remained calm, yet heavier now.
This was not a dream.
Not an illusion.
This was a path—and it had already been chosen.
The man studied him carefully, longer this time. Then curiosity overcame caution.
Why him?
A faint smile appeared on Darius's face. A smile that suggested he knew more than he was willing to say.
Because they were alike.
Because he had not stopped dreaming—only stopped believing in people.
Silence settled between them, thick and undeniable.
At last, hesitation gave way to words. If this madness were accepted… what came next?
Darius lifted his gaze to the crimson moon above.
They would begin from nothing.
From the shadows.
From the places no one ever looked at.
His hand extended slowly.
Together, they would create something the world could not ignore.
There was a brief pause. Then a short laugh—different now. No longer mocking. Something sharper. Something alive.
Very well. Let's see where this insanity leads.
The handshake was firm.
Darius's voice lowered, steady and certain.
This was not insanity.
It was destiny.
And on that night, beneath the crimson moon, a journey began—one that neither of them yet knew would force the entire world to learn their names.
And Darius… was the beginning.