A silence prevailed, the likes of which the angels had never known.
It was not a silence of awe… but a silence of glitch.
Kim stood in the center, his body human in appearance, yet the very existence around him treated him as something foreign—as if the laws of the place hesitated to acknowledge him.
The Priest said in a strained voice, struggling to maintain composure:
"You have overstepped your bounds, mortal."
Kim raised his head slowly.
His left eye was fixed…
The clock hands within it were turning, not to measure time, but to reorder it.
"Mortal?"
He repeated the word without mockery.
"I have died more than you have ever lived."
The voices of the angels rose.
White halos spread.
Circles of life formed in the air—pure, radiant, and suffocating.
The Commander declared, her voice cold and devoid of hesitation:
"Classify him as an existential threat.
Erase him from the temporal record.
Leave no trace of him behind."
In that moment…
Something cracked inside Kim.
It wasn't anger.
Nor was it sadness.
It was a final realization.
He reached for his chest.
To the Seal.
The Seal that was never a prison… but a lock upon a mistake.
The life force he had plundered from countless worlds surged forth.
It collided with the darkness accumulated in his soul.
Then, the Void swallowed them both.
From the collision of the three… Chaos was born.
It did not emerge as force.
It did not explode.
It did not scream.
Instead, it spread… like a colorless radiation.
Every angel that drew near was not burned, was not killed—they simply ceased to be.
Wings did not fall… because the very concept of "falling" had been erased.
Incantations of life reflected back upon their casters.
The light dissolved, as if life, when faced with its own consequence… denied itself.
One of the angels said, retreating in terror:
"This is not energy… this is our antithesis!"
Kim opened his left eye.
The clock hands stopped.
"You thrive on life," he said with a terrifying stillness. "And I… I carry what comes after."
The Commander tried to stabilize her field, but the ground beneath her lost its definition.
It was no longer earth.
It was no longer anything.
She fell to her knees, her body deconstructing, her voice trembling for the first time:
"What are you?"
Kim took a single step forward.
The radiation surrounded him, yet did not touch him.
"I am the error you tried to bury… because you could not endure its existence."
He placed his hand on her brow.
She vanished.
The White City began to collapse—not by destruction, but by oblivion.
The towers did not crumble; they simply forgot they were towers.
The sky lost its direction.
And the light… no longer knew how to shine.
Then, silence fell.
When everything settled, Kim stood alone.
No city.
No angels.
No world worthy of the name.
Behind him… a faint sound of wheezing.
He turned slowly.
One single angel remained alive.
His body was ravaged, his wings charred, the halo around him flickering—not because it was fading, but because it no longer knew how to exist.
He looked at Kim, and in his eyes was something resembling a late realization.
"You were… always… a mistake," he said in a broken voice.
Kim did not answer.
The angel spoke, blood trickling from his mouth:
"You were not born to be human… and you were not created to be an angel… You are a consequence."
He flashed a weak smile and whispered the final words:
"Son of… Error."
Then he fell.
And he died.
And Kim remained standing, carrying no answer… but carrying a stigma.
A stigma that would make all worlds tremble before they ever dared to utter his name.