The Eighth Continent — Voicilies
It was raining hard.
Thunder echoed in the sky.
CRACK… CRACK…
In an open field, surrounded by the embrace of a deep, ancient forest, a young man stood alone. He was panting, his chest rising and falling in ragged heaves.
Pant… pant….
His black hair was long and messy, covering his tired eyes. His clothes were torn and bloody. His body was strong, but every breath he took looked like a struggle.
He looked up at the sky with a tired face.
Across from him, an old man floated in the air, stroking his beard.
"Heir of Death," the old man mused,. "So that's what they call you. Now I understand why he chose you."
The old man had a long, clean beard. He looked proud and calm.
Behind him, the sky had turned completely dark. It looked like the sun had been swallowed. That was the young man's power—darkness.
"…Huff… huff… Is picking on young people fun for old men now?" the young man said with a bitter smile.
"Hohoho. Bold words for a mere demigod. You bark like a god, but bleed like a man… boy"
"…."
"You've shown me all you had… and it was pitiful. Crawl back into the dirt where you belong… and die."
The rain changed.it wasn't clear anymore. it had turned red—like blood. Everything was soaked in it.
The old man held out his hand. The dark sky began to spin and shrink into his palm.
The young man's eyes widened " He absorbed my Darkness !! "
The young man dropped to one knee. The ground around him cracked.
CRACK… CRACK…
Flames burst up from below. The earth turned to lava. The sky was red like fire.
-Is this how it ends? After all I've endured?
He lowered his gaze, his eyes shutting softly.
Fear did not grip him.
Only weariness.
Weary of fleeing.
Weary of the endless battles.
Weary of solitude.
This was the final chapter.
The long road had brought him here, to this forsaken place.
But his tale did not begin in the shadows of this moment.
No. It began ten years ago—
On a day shrouded in peace, before destiny ever whispered his name.
*****