In the roof of the heavens, beneath the celestial dome that encircles the First Earth, a book appeared in the blink of an eye—born from the whispers of forgotten ages and the echoes of countless beings it had once claimed.
Within its pages, the memories of history twist and turn as it falls—from the revered ancient dragons to the kings of the primordial eras, the armies of the First Age, and the dreadful shadowed creatures.
Cries of torment mingle with whispering voices, swirling through the vast sky as the book descends toward the world below.
_
In a grand plaza where a vast crowd was gathered, seated in straight rows of chairs one behind another, the great building stood ahead — its stage and podium commanding attention. Whispers drifted through the air as all awaited the presidential inauguration of the Northern Province of the Global Kingdom of Agarsa — the realm that represented the final generation of humankind.
It is said that, according to history passed down through the tongues of successive generations, what remains of humanity on this planet now lives in the era after the end — the so-called aftermath of the first world's demise. Those who survived are the chosen few, representing purity, beauty, and the genes deemed worthy of survival and continuation.
Now, the banquet was attended only by the elite of society in the northern province of the Kingdom of Agarsa.
In the very front row — precisely at its center, amid the unceasing whispers of the crowd — sat Darius, hands clasped together, his gaze fixed upon the stage.
His medium-length hair was neatly tied back, and his black attire lay beneath a dark cloak that seemed to enshroud him.
Darius, twenty-five years old, the son of a parliamentarian, had little interest in being here among these unfamiliar faces. Naturally inclined toward quiet and solitude, he nonetheless found himself compelled to attend due to his father's illness; he was, after all, required to represent him at the inauguration of the province's new president.
Before him stood a magnificent white building, almost palace-like, its upper floors adorned with white draperies. On the stage, several guards and officials in matching formal white attire were positioned. To the side, a man in his thirties, with blond hair and dressed in a gray suit, ascended the steps with measured calm. Behind him followed a girl with black hair in a black dress and an elegant man in his sixties.
As Darius was lost in contemplation, he felt a touch on his side. He turned to see a young man with gray hair, dressed in a formal ceremonial robe and a white cap like the rest of the attendees—a uniform that marked the official rites of the presidential inauguration.
"Why aren't you wearing the ceremonial attire? Didn't you pass through the Hall of Honor Preparation or what?" A smile curved his lips as he spoke in a low, hesitant voice, his blue eyes studying Darius intently.
Darius, whose features remained cold as he met the gaze, felt genuine annoyance at the behavior—strangers speaking to him was one thing, but touching him without permission was another. Yet, despite his dislike for personal questions, he found himself compelled to respond: "No."
"But don't you feel uneasy being different from the others? Especially since your clothing looks rather strange…"
He glanced at the black cloak and added,
"Sorry, I don't mean to offend you—it's just that you've been silent ever since I arrived an hour and a half ago."
Darius had been the first to arrive at the party three hours earlier, sitting alone in his chair long before anyone else appeared. For someone like him, it was nothing unusual—sitting wordlessly came naturally to him. His imagination was vast, and he never grew bored, for he lived deeply detached from reality.
Darius's indifferent, austere features shifted slightly as he studied the young man and said, "Does that trouble you?"
"Pardon?"
"Does my silence trouble you?"
The young man looked surprised, tension evident on his face, and said, "No, no, on the contrary, I was just asking… Ah yes, my name is Allen Dian, son of Professor Alexander Dian from the Institute of Natural Science. And you?"
Allen extended his hand to Darius, who studied him carefully before extending his right hand in return. "Darius… son of one of the parliamentarians."
After his words, the crackling of the loudspeaker echoed through the vast square, drawing Darius's attention to the beginning of the address delivered by the handsome President, whose confident and piercing gaze seemed to command every soul in attendance.
"First of all, I welcome you—the elites of the Northern Province gathered here in this square, and the citizens listening to this speech through their radios. In the end, you will all be my people, my strength, and my voice that will stand beside me. My speech will not be long or complicated, for my presence here is merely to give you a glimpse of who Gabriel Saras, your next President, truly is..."
Darius closed his eyes, flashes of focus drifting as he retraced the reason for his being here.
Darius belonged to the Kayar family—a lineage long renowned for producing elites of distinguished standing and honorable repute within society. Yet Darius was different; one could say, at the very least, that he fell short of the family's lofty standards. Among his relatives, he was scarcely regarded, especially beside his three brothers.
Academically, he was undistinguished; in truth, there was nothing that truly set him apart. He contributed nothing of worth to his life—neither studying nor working—merely drifting within the comfort of his family's wealth. His three brothers, by contrast, thrived in their respective fields, their brilliance and reputation resonating through the entire family as the renewed embodiment of the Kayar legacy.
In other words, he was notorious for being the disgraceful anomaly of the Kayar family.
And the only reason for his presence at the presidential inauguration was his father's illness and his brothers' busy schedules with numerous family affairs.
Unfortunately for the family, it was their very disgrace—the one deemed their shame—who ended up representing them at the most important ceremony in the Northern Province of the continental Kingdom of Agarsa.
"You will be representing the Kayar family, so it would be best if you refrain from speaking too much with any of the distinguished guests at the inauguration ceremony," his father said, his eyes fixed on the pages of a book as he sat in the refined room, one leg crossed over the other, gazing at him over the rim of his spectacles.
Darius caught the tone of his father's voice—stern and instructive—and understood the reason behind it: his father did not trust him as he did his other sons. It wasn't that their relationship was openly hostile; no, it was far worse than that. It was built on indifference.
For his father, Garius, familial ties existed only through utility, prestige, and anything that upheld the family's proud standing before society. Anything else was of no worth to him.
And that, quite literally, was what Darius embodied—a hollow emptiness stretching deep within him, as though he were yearning to be filled with something, anything at all.
"Do you understand?" his father added in his usual tone.
"Yes," Darius replied, his voice calm and cold, inwardly indifferent to everything his father had said.
Outwardly, however, he only sought to play the role assigned to him.
It's not as if I ever expected anything from him, but… damn it, how worthless I am.
_
Darius opened his eyes very slowly, weighed down by an overwhelming heaviness he could not comprehend. He stared ahead with his usual cold expression, as everything around him appeared in black and white. The voice of Allen Dian speaking beside him sounded heavy, and the President's voice even heavier. There was nothing wrong with his body—rather, it felt as though time and space themselves had slowed, weaving an atmosphere that was anything but ordinary.
All colors faded from Darius's eyes, leaving only shades of black and white. The sounds around him slowed, and the scene before him rippled like liquid glass — as though reality itself had begun to warp, distorting every shape, human or otherwise.
From the heavens, a book descended amid murmuring whispers. Its pages fluttered open, conjuring a black aura that surged forth, streaking through the air like a chaotic arrow of darkness above the gathered crowd.
Then came a tremendous explosion — fire as black as the void engulfed the grand square and the towering building, sealing them within walls of shadow. The flames writhed violently, unleashing a shockwave that expanded in a vast circle five hundred meters wide.
It was a colossal explosion — yet its flames were black, and its sound a sharp, low hiss, like an arrow slicing through the air with relentless force.
But this time, it wasn't the air being torn apart — it was human bodies, burning and vanishing in the blink of an eye.