I was dying.
No, not the kind of death people romanticize.
It was real—bloody, brutal, and absolute.
The battlefield was silent now, save for the dying embers crackling among the broken stones. Ash rained from the heavens, settling into the cuts of my skin like old, familiar scars.
And yet, I walked.
Sword dragging behind me, feet barely holding. Each breath tasted like iron and smoke. But still, I moved forward.
Toward the heart of the corruption.
The source gleamed ahead—a grotesque light, pulsing like a wound in the fabric of the world. That thing had devoured everything I loved.
My name is Ren.
And this is the end of my story.
I gritted my teeth, pouring the last dregs of mana into my blade. Even if it cost me everything—no, because it would cost me everything—I would end this.
Just one strike.
"Ren!!"
Her voice cut through the smoke—sharp, desperate.
I turned.
She was there—broken wings, bloodstained dress, shattered hope shining in her tear-filled eyes.
"Please," she sobbed, stumbling forward. "You don't have to—"
I smiled. A small, tired thing.
"I do."
I turned back to the light.
Raised my sword.
And struck.
The world screamed.
The corruption shattered.
And I…
I disappeared into the light, without a grave, without a name—only a memory burned into the soil I loved.
In the end, it wasn't victory.
It was just survival.
But maybe, that was enough.