It was silent.
Not because there was no sound, but because there was no one left to make a sound.
The air itself felt heavy, like it was holding its breath.
Why? Because everyone was dead, except for one person who knelt on the open ground, leaning on the sword that was buried deep into the earth, barely keeping him upright.
He was breathing shallow, as each of his breaths came out weak and uneven.
There was a gaping wound in his stomach, as if someone had dragged a circular cutting machine straight through his body.
Fresh blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, staining the dry ground below. The black, sleek armor he once wore with pride was now completely destroyed, soaked with blood as it barely clung to him like a broken memory.
He slowly lifted his head and looked around. Twisted and broken corpses were piled here and there, all belonging to people he once called his companions.
Faces he laughed with. Voices he trusted. They had stayed together through life and death, only to end up like this.
Why? It was not supposed to end like this. This was never how the story should have gone. So why… who did this? No, before that, why did this even happen?
The man's eyes drifted forward, toward the figure who stood atop the pile of his companions' corpses. That figure faced him, yet he could not tell what expression he wore.
The entire face was covered by a single golden mask without any eye sockets. Long golden hair fell over the figure's shoulders, catching the rays of the rising sun, shining softly…beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
He wore a flawless and radiant golden armor that covered his whole body, and six huge wings spread wide on his back. Each feather shone like polished gold.
That was… an angel.
The man coughed blood as his burning gaze fixed on the angelic figure. His hands trembled against the sword, knuckles white. "M-motherfucker," he managed to mumble through gritted teeth. The sun's rays reflected through his sword and fell on him, as if trying to embrace him in its warmth for the final breath.
" You god damn- "
"What?" a calm, gentle voice asked from above, almost curious. "Am I unfair?" the angel said, tilting his head slightly. He flared his six golden wings and flew up into the sky, then spun down, landing softly in front of the man. Dust flared around his feet, yet not a single sound felt harsh.
"Do you feel this… is unfair?" the angel asked again, clasping his hands behind his back. His tone was peaceful, almost kind. The man coughed blood once more, his body shaking. And yet, through the angel, he felt an unfamiliar warmth, something he should not have felt at all.
He should have been shivering in front of such a majestic presence, crushed by it, unable to breathe. But that was what scared him the most. Because the one standing before him was truly an angel.
An apostle of a god.
And at the same time, the young master of the Asura Realm.
The son of the Asura Paragon, the first god who descended from heaven.
The entity known as the Six-Winged Arbiter.
Heaven's Guillotine.
The Living Verdict.
And yes, he was indeed the one who slaughtered them all.
"Yes… it's unfair," the man mumbled, his gaze drifting and blurring, as if even his eyes knew his end was near. His shoulders sagged. "So… unfair."
The angel looked down at him, head slightly tilted, as if he was genuinely thinking about the answer.
"Unfair?"
His voice was still so gentle. Not the kind of voice you would expect from the god-damn villain who killed all of your friends.
"Justice does not exist to comfort the living," he continued softly. "Nor does it exist to protect those who believe they are righteous." He stepped forward, his golden boots sinking into the blood-soaked earth, staining them red.
"You… killed them. You of all people-why?!" the man shouted, his voice cracking as pain tore through his chest.
The angel did not deny it. "Yes," he said calmly. "I killed them."
There was no hesitation in his words. No anger, not even triumph. Just plain truth.
"But do you know," he continued, "in the end, only the winner's story becomes the truth in the eyes of justice. Why?" He paused slightly. "Because justice is blind."
The wind mournfully howled around them, carrying the smell of blood and death.
"You will never win," the man said, a faint smile appearing on his broken face. The angel tilted his head again.
"Do you know why?" the man asked, his head lowering toward the earth, his voice weak but firm. "Because in the end, the righteous will still win."
The man's drifting gaze locked onto the golden-masked face of the angel. His lips trembled, yet his eyes burned with stubborn will.
"In the end, you will be punished for what you did."
The angel stared down at him without saying anything. For a moment, the world felt frozen. Then, suddenly, he sighed and shook his head, ruffling his golden hair. It was a completely different trait from his usual composed presence.
"Yeah, yeah," he said mockingly. "Trying to be calm and indifferent doesn't match me at all."
His gaze shifted to the pile of corpses. He looked at those broken and lifeless bodies tangled together, blood dripping and soaking deep into the ground. The wind brushed over them, carrying the weight of what had been lost.
"Do you really believe the righteous will always win?" he said quietly. "I don't think so."
Slowly, he lifted his armored arm toward the man kneeling on the ground. For a brief moment, it almost looked like an angel granting his blessing to a fallen hero.
Instead, that so-called blessing came down as radiant golden light, swallowing the man whole. His body shattered, dividing into fine dust, floating away with the wind.
Finally, the last one left standing faded away.
Finally, it was over. Mankind was completely annihilated. There was no one left to oppose him. Finally, the world belonged to him.
The angel lifted his head and looked up at the radiant sky, where the sun was almost fully risen. Warm light spread across the battlefield, washing over blood and corpses alike.
It was a new beginning.
He lifted his hands to his sides and then up at the sky, letting the sun's rays fall on him. The warmth brushed against his armor and wings. Finally, that arrogant and depressing mankind had come to an end. That was what it felt like. That was what it was supposed to be.
Then the sky twisted.
The clouds began to spiral, swirling wildly, as if massive dragons were colliding and tearing through the heavens. Golden lightning thundered across the sky, cracking like a roaring beast. In an instant, the world plunged into darkness, the glow of the sun vanishing as if it had never existed.
The angel's posture stiffened. His relaxed stance vanished completely as he stood straight, his six wings flaring wide as instinct took over. Inside the golden mask, his eyes narrowed, locking onto the broken sky.
A voice boomed from above.
It was as ancient as the stars and cold as eternity.
It tore through the heavens, and with every rise and fall of its tone, lightning flared in response, shaking the world itself.
Is this a drama BGM or what? The thought slipped through his mind before he could stop it.
"You dare call this justice?" the voice thundered, each word striking the ground like a divine hammer.
"You, who wielded life and death like a blade, carving your own truth from the flesh of the innocent…"
The sky groaned as if it could no longer bear the weight of the voice.
"Do you think the scales bend to your whim?"
A brief pause.
"No."
The darkness deepened.
"You are not an arbiter."
Another strike of lightning split the clouds.
"You are not a god."
The air itself trembled.
"You are only a shadow of the power you claim, a mirror of death with the soul of a tyrant."
The angel did not move, but his wings tightened, feathers trembling against the violent wind.
"All the blood you spilled, all the cries you silenced, rise now as witnesses against you."
The ground shook, echoes of the fallen seeming to whisper through the storm.
"Even the sun you welcomed cannot hide the truth."
The voice lowered,
"You are weighed."
Thunder cracked.
"You are measured."
The sky tore open with blinding light.
"And you are found wanting."
Lightning split the darkened sky from end to end. The voice roared again, deeper than oceans, harsher than a thousand wars, carrying the weight of judgment itself.
"The world judges you. And the verdict… is eternal death."