The air was heavy. Smoke still lingered in the sky, mixing with the snow that fell slowly. Jin awoke gradually, his body aching, his head throbbing. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out. With effort, he leaned on a broken piece of wood beside him.
Around him, the silence was almost unbearable. There were no more screams, no more explosions. Only the distant crackling of fires still consuming some of the structures.
— Chi...? — Jin whispered, but there was no response. Only the empty echo of his own voice.
He looked down at his hands. They were covered in soot and dried blood. Trembling, he tried to stand, and this time he managed. He took a few staggering steps, his eyes scanning the devastation around him.
The ceremonial square was destroyed. The Altar of the Nine Souls had been reduced to rubble. The tents were burned, the columns toppled. And amidst it all — bodies. Bodies of monks, elders, children. People he knew. People who had smiled at him just that morning.
— Mother... — Jin murmured, his voice breaking. — Father...
He ran, ignoring the pain in his muscles, the cuts and bruises. He sprinted through the now empty alleys, his feet slipping on the blood-stained snow. He stopped in front of his parents' house. Or what was left of it.
The house was in ruins. The door hung open, dangling from a single hinge. Jin stepped inside, eyes wide, lips quivering.
— Mother?! Father?! — he shouted, but his voice echoed in the emptiness.
Then, he saw her.
Hwa Yun's body lay near the house altar. Her skin was pale, her eyes closed. Jin dropped to his knees beside her, tears streaming down his face. He took his mother's cold hand, pressing it against his cheek.
— Mother... please... — he sobbed. — Wake up...
But there was no response. Nothing but silence.
Outside, the snow continued to fall. Jin stayed there, holding his mother's body, his shoulders shaking with sobs. His world had crumbled.
After some time, he finally stood up. His gaze was empty, yet determined. There was something he needed to do.
He walked to the central square, where his father's body, Jin Haeryeong, lay near the Altar of the Nine Souls. Haeryeong's eyes were still open, fixed on the cloudy sky. Jin knelt beside him, gently closing his eyelids.
— Father... I promise... — Jin murmured, his voice breaking. — I will continue. I will fight. For all of you.
With great effort, Jin began to gather the bodies of the villagers. One by one, he carried them to the central square. His muscles screamed in pain, but he didn't stop. Not when the sky began to darken again. Not when the snow started to cover the bodies. He kept going until there was no one left to carry.
Finally, Jin piled firewood around the bodies, creating a funeral pyre. He knelt before it, his hands clasped, his eyes fixed on the fire still burning in one of the tents.
— Chi... — he whispered. — If you're there... help me. Just this once.
Chi's voice echoed softly in his mind.
— I'm here, kid. — The voice was softer, almost compassionate. — Let's do this together.
Jin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The crimson symbol on his chest glowed faintly, and a small flame appeared in his hands. He cast it onto the pyre, and the fire spread quickly, consuming everything.
Jin stayed there, watching the flames rise, the heat licking his face, the tears drying before they could touch the ground.
— I swear... — he murmured, his fists clenched. — I will find every single one of them. And I will make them pay.
The fire burned for hours, and Jin remained there until the last ember died out. When night fell completely, he rose to his feet, his face hardened, his eyes dry. The snow had stopped falling.
And in that absolute silence, Jin knew that his path was only beginning.