Hummmmm.
Everything stopped moving.
The laughter cut off mid-sound like someone had pressed pause on the world.
The Paladin froze mid-spin with the girl still clutched safely in his arms. The little girl hung suspended in the air defying every law of physics. Even the snowflakes outside the window paused in their descent like the universe itself had buffered.
The world drained of color, turning grey and lifeless.
Then, without any warning, time lurched forward. Fast.
ZOOM.
The sky outside darkened rapidly like someone was closing curtains on the sun. Red clouds swirled into existence overhead, angry and violent.
The temple doors burst open with a deafening crash. Not by pilgrims coming to worship, but by writhing shadows that poured in like toxic smoke.
Demons.
Kaizen stood there frozen in place, a powerless ghost watching a historical recording he could not change, as the Happy Scene transformed into a nightmare right before his eyes.
Monks fell screaming, cut down where they stood. Pilgrims tried desperately to run and died anyway, their prayers unanswered. The golden floor that had been so pristine was stained black with blood and worse things Kaizen did not want to think about.
Sir Cassiel drew his Greatsword in one smooth motion, blinding light erupted from the sword.
He fought like a lion protecting its pride from hyenas. He cut down demons by the dozen with every swing. His holy light was so blinding it hurt to look at directly, burning the darkness wherever it touched.
But the demons were cunning in the absolute worst possible way.
They did not attack the Paladin directly because they knew they would lose. They attacked the weak people he was desperately trying to protect.
Kaizen watched helplessly, his hands clenched into fists, as thick black smoke poured into the children like water filling empty vessels. The same innocent children Sir Cassiel had been playing with, spinning around, making laugh just seconds ago.
Their bright eyes turned black like spilled oil. Their healthy skin turned grey like week-old corpses.
They were not children anymore. They were vessels for something evil and ancient.
They leaped at the Paladin with claws extended where small fingers had been, moving faster than any child should be able to move.
Sir Cassiel froze completely, his sword halfway through a swing. He could not complete the motion. He physically could not do it. Those were the kids he had sworn a holy oath to protect with his very life.
"No, please no," the echo of the Paladin screamed, his voice breaking with raw anguish. "Do not make me do this. Please. Anything but this."
The demons inside the children laughed. It was this horrible, distorted, mocking sound coming from the throats of innocents who could not understand what was happening to their own bodies.
"Please, Sir Cassiel, please do not kill us," the children cried with voices that were theirs but also horrifyingly not theirs anymore. "You love us, remember? You promised you would always protect us. Do you not remember all our lovely moments together? The games we played?"
They bit into his armor with teeth that had become razor-sharp fangs. They tore at his exposed flesh with fingers that had become wicked claws, drawing blood.
The Paladin fell to his knees under the weight of them and the weight of what he had to do. He looked at the corruption spreading across their skin like black poison through water. He looked up desperately at the Sun Disc floating above, silently pleading with everything he had for a miracle to save these children.
There was no miracle. The Sun God did not answer. There was only cold, cruel duty.
"I purify thee in the name of the Sun," Sir Cassiel wept, his voice barely audible and completely shattered.
He raised his sword with hands that shook violently.
He closed his eyes because he could not bear to watch.
He swung.
SLASH.
The sound echoed through the temple like thunder.
Kaizen looked away, squeezing his own eyes shut. Even as a viewer who knew this was just a recording of something that happened five thousand years ago, it was too heavy to watch. Too painful. Too real.
When he forced himself to look back, his throat tight, the children were gone. Just ash on the wind. The demons were gone too, banished back to whatever hell they came from.
Sir Cassiel remained, kneeling completely alone in the ashes of the ones he loved most in this world.
He was weeping openly, his shoulders shaking.
Tears fell from his eyes in rivers, streaming down his face. But they were not the golden tears of a holy paladin anymore like they should have been. They were black. Thick, tar-like tears of absolute despair and spiritual corruption that stained his white armor.
Drip. Drip.
The black tears fell onto his glowing Greatsword.
Hiss.
The holy light died instantly like a candle being snuffed out. The sacred metal screamed, actually screamed, as it melted under the weight of the corruption pouring into it. It twisted grotesquely, shrank, and reformed into something completely new and wrong.
The broad, western blade narrowed. It curved elegantly. It sharpened into a single deadly edge.
It became a Katana.
Black as a demon's heart and just as cursed, but laced with intricate golden streaks running through the dark metal like veins of light. The last remnants of the Paladin's holy power trapped forever within the darkness, a reminder of what it used to be.
Zoom.
Time accelerated again, even faster this time like the world wanted to forget.
Years passed in seconds. Decades compressed into minutes. Centuries flashed by in moments too quick to count.
The golden paint peeled away, revealing grey stone beneath. The pristine marble cracked under the endless weight of time and neglect. The roof collapsed section by section under the burden of endless winters. The Sun Disc shattered into a thousand pieces, falling to the floor as dull, rusted fragments that nobody would ever repair or remember.
The warmth that had filled this place vanished completely. The cold wind returned with a vengeance, howling through broken windows.
Kaizen stood there, shivering violently in his coat.
The temple was a ruin again. The gold was gone. The people were gone. The glory and beauty were gone. Everything was gone.
He was alone in the grey, rotting carcass of what had once been a magnificent cathedral.
Except he was not entirely alone.
Sob.
A sound echoed from somewhere deep inside the inner sanctum where no light reached.
Sob... hic...
It was the sound of a man weeping. A broken, jagged sound filled with five thousand years of grief and guilt. A sound that had been echoing in this cursed place without stopping, without rest, without peace.
Kaizen felt tears gathering in his own eyes.
"Five thousand years," he whispered. "He has been crying for five thousand years."
Kaizen checked his interface slowly.
[Dungeon: The Ruined Temple of the Sun God]
[Rank: F (Variable)]
"Still F-Rank," Kaizen whispered, letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "The boss hasn't aggroed yet. He's still in the Grieving Phase of the encounter."
Kaizen gripped the handle of his Rusty Pan tightly.
"Okay. Time to go say hello to the saddest man in history."