POV: Matías Castleboard
(Memory)
I had always hated these moments. Holding a weapon in my trembling hand, while my mind hesitated—wondering if letting the sword fall would be a relief or a condemnation. That uncertainty burned deep in my chest.
I couldn't meet the gaze of the man who knew his life rested in my hands; he knew I would be the last person he'd see before he died.
I looked away; I couldn't bear to see his tears. I couldn't understand the "why."
I always blamed myself for volunteering for this. For prioritizing the punishment of others whose past I didn't even know.
And yet, despite that pain, I always placed myself at the end of the line—wearing the mask of a false god who decides who lives and who doesn't.
To my followers' eyes, I was a leader. Someone capable of making firm decisions, someone just in his actions. Perhaps they believed that because there was no other choice left in a world devastated by humanity itself.
Or maybe they simply saw me as a compass—the one who points the way. Their guide. Their protector. The one who would never retreat.
But having to kill one of your own…
"Please… I'm begging you, Matías. I didn't betray the insurgency," he said. His voice echoed blurry inside my head. "You know me. I have a family. Don't leave me…"
What would you do if, in your hands, you held not only the respect of your people but also the possibility of a better future? Perhaps a place worthy of rest…?
The shouts of the crowd pulled me back to reality. Every word from their mouths wasn't meant to save him; it was meant to bury him deeper. They wanted to crush the life of a man who hadn't chosen to be born in one of the darkest eras.
"People of Alkemist!" I shouted, unable to bear my own words. "We are not beasts! We are humans, and humans make mistakes!"
"So I ask again…" I hesitated; I didn't want to voice the question because I already knew the answer. But I had to try. "Will we give this man a second chance, or will we condemn his life?"
The answer came swiftly. Everyone in the massive coliseum—once belonging to one of the oldest nations—spoke with a single voice:
"Let him die! There is no forgiveness for a traitor!" came the first cry. Then the others followed, one after another.
I felt their voices vibrate in the air until it seemed as if the sky itself was answering their call.
The sun dimmed, smothered by clouds that reclaimed what had once been a clear day. Within seconds, rain began to fall, striking my face and trying to hide my tears.
Knowing the decision had been made, I tightened my grip on the sword's hilt. I looked into the man's eyes one last time and saw his life flash by in an instant.
The wind stilled as I brought the sword down. Then my face, damp with rain, was splattered by the stream of blood bursting from his neck.
His head rolled across the ground until it reached my feet. I took a step back, unconsciously, horrified by those eyes—still open—staring at me in pain.
The applause and cheers thundered like the drums of a false victory, and with them, my clarity returned. We had gained nothing. Death does not bring justice; only more death.
A vicious cycle our minds refuse to break. Our attachment to pain forces us to repeat the same acts over and over, blind to the damage we inflict on ourselves.
I raised the sword to the sky; a lightning bolt answered with a roar. I wanted to pretend I had conviction, but I knew I didn't.
Without a word, I walked out of the coliseum, the applause echoing at my back. My head was held high, but my soul was in pieces. I had never wanted to be a killer.
Minutes later, walking through the coliseum's luxurious halls—lined with paintings and objects gilded in gold—I found Marcois. He was standing still, staring at a painting on the wall.
"It's incomprehensible how low we've fallen: from admiring beautiful things to taking pleasure in someone's death," he said without looking at me.
In front of him, hanging on the wall, rested a painting that had once been famous. The Starry Night lay under a veil of dust, yet still held a dazzling glow.
Even though the painting no longer radiated the same vibrant hues it once had, its atmosphere still carried that sense of peace. It stood as a silent proof that the landscapes we once knew would never exist again.
"The people have stopped seeing with their eyes," I said, stepping up beside him. "Now they're guided only by hate… it's all they have left."
I heard Marcois let out a faint sigh that echoed off the stone walls, and I began walking alongside him.
In just a few steps, the glow of the torches and the soothing echo of silence were replaced by murmurs and the pale sunlight filtering through the clouds.
Alkemist was our main base. Completely under insurgent control, it had become a strategic foothold on the desert continent of Europe—a brutal advantage against our enemies.
The streets that had once symbolized modernity and progress had slipped backward in time, now turned into rough stone paths patrolled by soldiers carrying iron and wood.
Those who didn't follow the Prophet came here seeking refuge. They believed the leader they called "the Great Liberal" was different from the Prophet… but they were wrong.
I too was playing my own game. It wasn't malice; it was ideology. I didn't share their beliefs, and that's why I confronted them.
"Champion Castleboard!" a citizen called out as he passed. "Thank you for putting that traitor in his place!"
I gave a bitter smile, feeling the weight of holding it. The cold rain wrapped around me, making it harder and harder to stay upright.
"No matter how much it hurts you, we need you now," Marcois said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You know the people of the Sunken Continent play more by the rule of the cunning."
"Leave those thoughts for a while," he added, giving me a small tap on the shoulder. "You have to be at a hundred percent. The information we're about to receive is crucial."
Time had changed us. The conditions had deformed us. And yet, we still called ourselves human… people with reason, with some shred of mercy.
I swallowed hard and placed my hand on the door handle, gripping it tightly as I opened it.
"Well, well… if it isn't Champion Matías Castleboard himself," one of the men inside said mockingly.
"A pleasure to see you, your majesty. I've heard so many lovely things about you," he added with a small bow, laughing.
"This isn't the time for jokes," I said without any emotion. "Do you have what I asked for?"
"Of course," another voice answered, tossing a folder into my hands. "We never fail."
Across what was left of the world, in every still-inhabited corner, we had informants. People who worked for us, for our cause. For a purpose.
"Thank you for the information," I said, without looking up from the envelope. The red letters on the cover screamed CLASSIFIED.
"And our payment? You know nothing comes for free," one of them asked in a firm tone.
A single glance at Marcois was enough for him to understand what to do. They caught my gesture and left with him, painted smiles on their faces.
Alone now, I opened the document. On the first page lay something I had both long awaited and feared: Project Lunar Cycle.
Humanity had already lost from the start. We would never become what we once were; we had turned into monsters.
POV: Kael Lanpar
I opened my eyes, emerging from the trance that memory had dragged me into. It was hard to regain my balance; I was dizzy, trembling.
Standing before an old desk, I stared at an image inside a parchment sealed as classified.
I wished I had never seen it. My hands could no longer hold it, and the parchment rolled to the floor. I was consumed by the chill of horror.
The image was clear: the person who had once cared for me in my childhood, since the moment I arrived in this world… lay dead.
Like a macabre work of art, Lilia's body was nailed to a cross. Crucified, her skin burned, blood running down the wood, displayed in the center of the capital.
I couldn't get her out of my mind. It was as if I had lived her suffering in my own flesh. I could hear her screams, begging for mercy. Just like the traitor, just like so many others.
I had spent only a few years with her, but I had always cared for her. She had sick parents to look after… and a dream she never got to fulfill.
She had a smile that never faded—and even in death, it still shone on her face.
I thought that when I entered my grandfather's office, I would find information about Alfin's whereabouts, or about the current situation in Auroria.
But among all the books and papers scattered across the desk, I happened to pick the worst one. The one that revealed a truth impossible to ignore.
I bent down with difficulty to pick up the parchment. I gave it a quick glance, trusting my trained memory to absorb every word.
The hardest part of reading it was trying to accept that single word repeated like a sentence, written in large letters across what seemed to be her record.
Deceased.
That was all. A farewell and nothing more.
So deep in thought was I that I didn't notice the presence behind me. I took a step back; the wood creaked beneath my feet just before I collided with something… or someone.
"Well, well, how mischievous. I see you're not as mature as you pretend to be," said a familiar voice. My grandfather's. "That's good. You still have some childhood left to live."
Without thinking—perhaps out of instinct—I threw myself into his arms and hugged him tightly. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.
Even with the mind of an adult, I couldn't contain the feelings of my child's body; the pain was felt more purely, more intensely… and I couldn't bear it.
I felt my grandfather's hand gently stroking my head.
"Life is fragile, Kal," he whispered in a tired voice. "You never know when it's going to end."
"All we can do is live one day at a time, even if it means suffering through it," he added, pulling me away from the embrace.
He knelt down to my height, looking at me with tenderness. His steady eyes pierced through my soul.
He placed his hands on my cheeks, and for a moment, silence filled the room. Only our breathing gave the place a sound.
"Go find your sister," he said with a sigh. "But don't think you're getting away with this—you're grounded."
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, letting the tingling in my lips turn into a shared smile.
My sister had told me we'd meet at the fountain in the center of the compound. It had become our usual meeting place… lately, we spent more time strolling than training.
And I was grateful for that. I know training is important—especially for me—but… I also want to make the most of what I have.
Trying not to look like I had been crying, I walked out through my grandparents' doors. I was greeted by the warm sunlight and the morning song of the crystal birds gliding through the sky.
Still, I can't help but marvel at how strange this world can be. It's funny—after everything I've seen, nothing should surprise me anymore… and yet…
"Good morning, ma'am," I greeted with a big smile.
"Good morning, prince," she replied kindly.
It still amazes me how kind people are here. Unlike other human clans, the Astrals see everyone as equals.
That's their philosophy: no one is greater or lesser than another. We're just different names sharing the same world.
The irony is that their bloodlines are divided into multiple branches. I still don't fully understand how it works, but from what I've seen, no one is considered superior or inferior to another.
I inhaled the fresh morning air and let myself drift with the atmosphere. In the distance, I spotted my sister—and apparently, Airis was there too.
I didn't recognize her at first because of the hood, but that bitter expression gave her away instantly.
"Hey!" I shouted, waving my hand. "I made it on time… I think."
"Just a few minutes late, little brother," she said with a smile that was half sweet, half scolding. "What were you doing? We agreed on a specific time, remember?!"
I don't know what she's complaining about—she's just as bad… if not worse. I don't think she even knows what the word punctuality means.
"I was with Grandpa, talking about a few things," I replied, scratching my head. "So… where are we going?"
She didn't answer. She simply started walking, signaling for Airis and me to follow her.
With every step we took, we moved deeper into the forest within the compound, passing through bustling areas brimming with life.
The cries of merchants followed us as we entered the heart of the place, only to be overtaken by the metallic clang echoing from the academies.
The houses were a perfect blend of wood, stone, and crystal, adorned with natural lamps that also acted as seals.
The Astrals had learned to capture sunlight in crystals of their own making, using it at night for illumination. It was a simple system, but effective.
"This place is so… eco-friendly," I muttered, noticing the crystals sprouting from the ground like protective flowers decorating the landscape.
"Eco… what did you just say, Kael?" my sister asked, arching a brow.
I was thinking out loud—I scolded myself—without realizing a stray word had slipped from my mind.
"Nothing… just thinking how interesting it is that these crystals work as a natural defense," I said, steering the conversation away.
"It's one of the advantages of having a connective sub-element," Airis cut in for the first time, her tone sharp. "I see you're not very bright."
Why does she always want to argue? Every time there's peace and quiet, she appears just to provoke me.
Letting my current mood take over, I allowed my childish side to surface and, for once, decided to play along.
"Thanks for the information, Airis," I said sarcastically. "I'll keep that in mind next time I ask you something."
She turned her head with an angry glare, only to trip over a tree branch a heartbeat later. Quickly, before she could hit the ground, I grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pulled hard.
"You can thank me later," I muttered through clenched teeth, feeling her weight tug me forward.
I watched her straighten up, brushing off my hand with a look of disgust. Her face, faintly flushed, avoided my gaze.
"Well, we're here," Mai said. "This place is sacred to our family, so even if you don't want to… please, show some respect."
Still smiling at what had just happened, I lifted my eyes—and what I saw could only be described as beautiful. In my world, cemeteries were eerie places, but this one…
This was a place where anyone could truly rest in peace.
A vast lake covered by a thin layer of water stretched out before us, allowing one to walk calmly among thousands of headstones shaped like transparent crystal carvings. Each one bore a name… thousands of them.
"It's a cemetery, isn't it?" I asked into the air, a lump forming in my throat. "Why are there so many people here?"
"It's the Spring Field—the resting place of our fallen," Mai replied softly. "And about the people… it's always the same story: a massive bloodshed."
At her words, I began to wonder whether the clans and races I knew were truly the only ones… or if there had once been others, forgotten by time.
"Airis… can I ask you something?" I said, without looking at her.
"What now?" she replied, her eyes fixed on my face.
"How much did you have to lose to have that look in your eyes?" I asked, staring at the headstones.
Hearing no response, I knew she had lost everything. Her soft sobs, the ones she tried to hide, reached my ears.
Now I understood why my grandfather had told me to have empathy for Airis. She had been another victim of life.
Sometime later, we returned home—each of us going our own way.
As for me, I went straight to training. I needed to focus my mind on something. I didn't want to be latent; I was afraid of becoming a burden.
Tomorrow is my birthday. From what I've heard, there will be some kind of trial. It's like a rite of passage into real life—or something like that, my grandfather said.
I didn't know what awaited me the next day… but there was no turning back now. I had begun to love this life too much.