Darkness. Complete, utter darkness.
I was floating, hovering in a space of gut-wrenching nothingness.
There was nothing else.
No sound. Taste. Sll. Touch, or even emotion.
It was peaceful at first, as if all my burdens and trauma had been swept away.
It was an intoxicating sensation.
Like... Freedom.
Like I was nothing and everything all at once.
It was definitely different from how I felt when I tapped into the power of God. It could even be said to be the polar opposite.
This ti I felt like a tiny speck in the vast universe.
But I wasn’t truly alone... I was just the one suppressing those haunting mories, those piercing emotions.
Everything was always better without anything, right?
Yet, I couldn’t forget who I was...
I couldn’t forget the promises I had made to the people I loved.
Because although the traumas were painful, they were still a part of .
A part that no gas, stories, fantasies, or lies could take away.
So, I let those emotions and feelings pour out of .
There was no reason to examine them one by one, or to decide what was right or wrong, or have my mind filter them.
I needed to feel them. Needed to beco one with my true self.
Gradually I felt the fragnts of my real self rge together.
Spectres of different colors flowing into .
My power and that of God.
Inside were different worlds.
A beautiful world. A happy world. A sad world. And there was also a perfect world.
They all felt warm, comforting.
Like a flawless paradise built just for , not as the actors in a play, but as the one who held the curtains and the pillars from above.
Suddenly, a soothing sensation shot through as I felt warmth.
Not the type felt from heaters, but the type only the human body could generate.
My eyes slowly opened, only to see the once-dark space illuminated by seven pillars of light.
And covering was an even brighter light that ford a star in the sky.
My soul already knew who they were before my mind did.
A soft smile ford on my known, existent face.
Shutting my eyes, I began channeling the energy through my spectral form.
From my hands to my feet, my brain core to my heart core, down to that of my abdon.
As the energy filled my body, the voice of the force that wrapped around whispered:
"Stand, Beom-seok."
Her voice was soothing in the darkness, like a mother’s after a nightmare.
"...You know you’re better than this."
Instantly, the sky cracked and the ground shattered.
Mi-kyong was right about growth.
People grow and people change.
Even if we had made many mistakes before, they were now in the past.
And my present was more important than my past.
But I had to thank her.
If it weren’t for her, I would have probably died miserably.
Because of that, I will grant her final wish.
One mad, final dance...
That’s what you want, right? Mi.
---
Years ago in the North, a popular prophecy had spread to the ears of whoever could hear.
At first, people wondered about its origin and how realistic it was.
The prophecy concerned the end of the world and a special child born to the demonic dragon household.
Through the years, many people forgot it; however, four years ago, when the strange Arcain boy awakened a power of color, that prophecy resurfaced.
And today, a day when it felt like all hope was lost.
A day when ships of evil spirits broke free from rifts in the sky.
A day that many thought was the end of their lives. That was the day they recalled the mories.
The elders told their children, and their children told their sobbing friends.
In the Holy Empire, the saintess called all the believers and made them kneel before the altar.
In the North, the Arcains and other families went down on their knees with their palms together.
In the East, West, South, and Center, the sa thing happened.
No one was sure if the prophecy was true or not.
No one knew if a God actually existed out there.
But in hard tis, people always wanted a hero.
Soone they could lean on, a bright light in their dark world.
And that prophecy was the only thing they had.
A prophecy given to the Frost Knight of the North and the Queen of the Arcains about a certain boy.
He was to be born a devil, but soon enough the soul of God would enter him.
He would be a transcendent who did not belong to this era.
The mysterious ruler of originality and color.
The emperor of fortune and depravity.
And the day calamity fell, the world would pray for his help,
And he shall bring them good dreams.
He will raise our race to the top.
And with seven pillars and one star by his side, he shall bring peace to the world.
Not as one chosen by the gods, but as a God himself.
And when that child arrives,
All other races shall bow before him.
And they all did that; they all bowed their heads in worship.
Channeling their last energy, their last strength, even their life force, to the cause.
It was all or nothing.
At that mont, they all felt a weight lift from their shoulders as a golden light shot to the sky, dissipating the darkness entirely.
Sparkles of golden dust glimred around the world.
And anyone who was touched by it healed, and those grasses that felt it grew.
The world in an instant beca beautiful, far beyond anything anyone had seen in their lives.
It was sothing no one except them could witness.
Sothing that even their grandchildren would not believe.
The Birth of a God.
---
The mont Arthur felt the sky shatter, that was the instant torrents of energy entered his body.
It wasn’t violent like when he absorbed primordial energy; it was warm.
A power beyond mortal comprehension.
The clouds were dark and brooding, heavy with unspent rain.
Arthur waited for the system to chi or sothing, but nothing happened.
It wasn’t that nothing was happening to him—it was more like he had reached a level where the system was useless.
Badum... Badum...
He took a deep breath and exhaled.
As his eyes opened, gradually multicolored streams filled his pupils, as if his eyes were not just eyes but rivers of divine light, seeing far beyond the limits of the mortal world.
Rain trinkled down his form, soaking his white hair, which now flowed like liquid silver.
His skin nded itself, bones breaking and fusing together with soft cracks that echoed through the storm.
His consciousness expanded, as did his zone, covering the entire world, then far beyond that.
He didn’t know how far, but he knew he could see and hear as far as his mind reached.
It was tiring, painful, yet comforting all at once.
A golden light shot from him the mont his body finished nding.
Dragonic white wings streaked with gold erupted from his back, twin horns of the sa hue crowned his forehead.
This was the second form of his immortal bloodline.
Without effort, he rose into the storm-filled sky.
At the center of his shirtless form was a golden stone, glowing softly amidst the rain.
His hair, long once more, shimred in the falling droplets, his eyes glimring with an otherworldly brilliance.
Before him hovered a woman atop a massive beast, cloaked in shadow.
Her eyes were ethereal blue, and her hair split gold and black.
Arthur smiled as a javaline of white light ford in his hand.
This was the ultimate form of "color," the embodint of creation itself. Never in a million years had he imagined he would wield it with such effortless power.
But nothing was impossible in this strange world.
After a beat of silence he parted his lips:
"Hey, Mi."
"Hey, Bemmy."
They both did not share another word.
Boom!
A resounding echo rang through the heavens as the two gods clashed, the area around them shattering into nothingness.
Their ideologies had both changed since the last ti they t.
The helpless crybaby who beca a monster had turned into a God.
And she—the crazy rebel who had beco like a mother—had beco the devil.
Maybe things could have been different.
Or perhaps they were the worst events in each other’s lives.
Neither of them had any answer.
The only thing they wanted was to dance.
One last brilliant dance that would shake the heavens.
Arthur’s light javaline and Mi-kyong’s shadow sword clashed in the sky as space tore apart around them.
The dinsion shifted, and they found themselves in another world.
This was the sa phenonon that had happened to her when she died, and when she realized that if she made people of the past want her as a God, whether she died or not, she would awaken again as a God.
The past shaped the future, and the future shaped the past—but at what cost?
At the cost of life? Obsession? Or sothing far worse?
Regardless, she knew how she wanted it to end.
Either she would die by Arthur’s hands, or she would create a world where they could die together.
Without saying any of this, Arthur understood her.
She was his first love. His first of many things.
If anyone truly understood her, it would have been him.
And the question that her blade asked was simple:
"What do you pick, Bemmy?"
─── ✦ End of Chapter ✦ ───
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