The world was engulfed in embers.
The sound of war drums roared through the air, shaking the earth and sky as if nature itself trembled in anticipation of destruction. On a barren, vast wasteland, two armies stood facing each other.
One side wore silver-plated armor, bearing the emblem of a sacred golden star on their chests. Their numbers were staggering—rows of soldiers stretched as far as the eye could see, countless in number. They carried banners of grandeur, in the name of light and peace.
On the other side stood warriors with faces hidden behind masks and cloaked in mysterious black robes, bearing no kingdom's insignia. Their numbers were few, but their eyes burned like embers, undaunted by the sheer number of opponents before them. In Eltheria's historical narrative, they were known as the traitors of light. But on this battlefield, they were not mere shadows; they were an unstoppable storm.
And so the war broke out.
Screams of death and the clash of steel filled the plains. Blood flowed between the stones. Though Eltheria had the advantage in numbers, they found themselves slowly being pushed back. The enemy's blades moved like lightning, slashing relentlessly. And at the frontlines of the mysterious army stood a lone figure, his cloak torn, a faintly glowing "L" mark etched on his arm like a brand of fire.
No one could touch him.
Blades seemed to pass through him without leaving a trace. Arrows rained down on him, yet none pierced his skin. As if death itself refused to claim him. Under his command, the soldiers of Eltheria fell one by one, and fear of impending defeat gripped all hearts.
But just as hope was about to fade, and the battlefield had become a sea of corpses, he arrived.
A man clad in armor more regal than the rest, a white cloak draped over his form, carrying a long sword that shone like the morning sun. As he raised it, light poured from the heavens. The soldiers of Eltheria cried out with renewed hope.
"The holy hero has arrived—victory is oursss!!!"
Their screams echoed, blazing with newfound spirit. That light was not of this world. That sacred sword was said to be a gift from the heavens, a weapon of the gods, the last symbol of hope for mankind.
The true battle began.
The sky darkened. Rain fell. Two great powers clashed in the center of the battlefield. Blades of light cleaved through the air, shaking the earth. The one with the "L" mark could dodge every strike of the holy hero as if he already knew where each blow would land even before the sword was swung.
But then, as if a miracle had descended upon this land, the light of that sword grew ever stronger—declaring that divine power was above all.
And in the end, he was pierced.
The bearer of the mark seemed to lose all his strength, and no matter how fiercely he fought, the heavenly force could not be stopped.
He was defeated. His body collapsed among the rain and blood, never to rise again.
Cries of victory erupted from all directions.
The soldiers of Eltheria shouted in the name of the Divine. Their cheers split the world, louder than thunder in a storm. And that sound, the sound of victory—
"AAAAAARGHH!!!"
I screamed without realizing it. I... I could still taste the blood and earth on my tongue. That battlefield felt so real. I could hear them... those cries of triumph.
I woke up gasping. My body trembled, sweat soaked my face.
The tent burst into commotion; everyone awoke from my scream. A noble sleeping not far from me stormed over, rage boiling in his eyes.
"What's the meaning of this noise in the middle of the night, you damned lowborn!?"
He grabbed my collar and yanked me up. His eyes burned with fury, and I could only stare at him, still stunned, not yet grasping what was happening. His hand was ready to swing, but—
"Hey. Take your hand off him," a heavy, cold voice cut through the air.
Wilhelm. His large frame stood between us, like a wall. His gaze made the noble hesitate. He cursed, then shoved me, and I fell to the ground. I felt the dust enter my mouth.
Wilhelm clenched his fist, ready to retaliate, but I quickly shook my head.
"Let him go… it was my fault anyway."
I got up and left the tent, pretending I needed to relieve myself and asked Wilhelm to come with me. I couldn't sleep again. I needed air.
We walked away, accompanied by the whisper of the night wind and stars above that seemed to follow our steps.
"I had a dream," I said at last. "Not a normal dream. I saw a war… a massive one. There was Eltheria's army, and they were losing to a group of strangers. But there was one figure… bearing a mark'L'. He couldn't be hurt. Then someone came with a blade of light… and..."
"He lost?" Wilhelm cut in, his voice calm, though I could sense something strange in his tone.
I nodded.
Silence fell between us for a moment, then Wilhelm said,
"That… sounds like the tale of the Thousand-Year War. The one my mother used to tell us. Remember?"
"Of course."
"Then that might be your answer. You just dreamed of an old story you've heard many times. The one with the 'L' mark was the leader of the demon army. And the hero with the shining blade… was the great Luxius, the savior of Eltheria."
I looked at my palms.
Yes, that made sense. Wilhelm's explanation made perfect sense.
But somehow… that dream didn't feel like a story from the past.
It felt like a memory.
As if I wasn't remembering an old tale—
—but reliving it.
The night wind brushed through our hair. Silence blanketed the world, as if the night refused to hear anyone's prayer.
We simply stood, gazing at the beauty of the sky that the Divine had created. Our eyes pierced through the starry heavens—searching for meaning among the countless lights that never answered.
I stared at both my hands. These hands… they were small back then. Too small to understand the world, but big enough to question it.
"Wilhelm… have you ever thought… that the history we learn is just a tiny piece of the truth?"
He turned, didn't answer. Just waited.
"I remember… before you came to the orphanage, my mother used to read stories from the Holy Book before bedtime."
I looked up at the sky, trying to piece the fragments of that memory together.
"And of all the stories… there was one I could never forget: the tale of Lucifer's fall."
I knew how taboo this topic was. But tonight… I wanted to say it. I wanted at least Wilhelm—the only person I truly trusted—to know.
"She read it to me in such a gentle voice, like she was telling a sad story, not one of sin. About how Lucifer was the first angel, the most loyal, the most noble… and how he was cast out simply because he refused to bow before man."
I looked down, my voice grew softer.
"Back then, I didn't think Lucifer was evil. Quite the opposite. He… was so loyal. Too loyal to kneel before anyone but the Creator. And every night, I prayed… asking God to forgive him."
Wilhelm didn't reply. He just looked at me, in a silence that hung heavy.
"But that all changed," I continued. "When I started school, when the elders of the Holy Order began to teach me the real 'truth'… They taught that Lucifer was a traitor. Full of envy, full of pride, and that's why he disobeyed God's command. That made me feel guilty for ever sympathizing with him."
I lifted my gaze to the sky, my eyes narrowing as if I could pierce through its boundary.
"Since then, I stayed silent. But… the questions never really left. I still wonder if Lucifer was truly evil. Did he really wish to rival God? Or… was he just trapped in a game of fate he could never win?"
I turned to Wilhelm, and this time my voice grew deeper.
"I just think that whatever Lucifer did… he was always destined to be cast out of heaven. If he bowed to man, he'd betray his loyalty to God. But if he refused, he'd be disobeying God and thus betray that same loyalty."
I paused, then asked him again.
"Wilhelm… have you ever wondered: If The Eternal God has written and decided every human's fate since birth… what about the wicked ones? Did God also predetermine that their fates would turn out that way? And if so… do they still deserve to be punished in hell?"
Wilhelm frowned. "Hmm? What do you mean?"
I let out a long sigh. "Hah… I thought you were a bit smarter by now. Guess you're still as slow as ever."
"Shut up! Just explain what you meant!"
I looked at him with sharper eyes. "If our fate is already decided… doesn't that mean we never truly had a choice? Then on what grounds are we punished? Or rewarded?"
Wilhelm fell silent. His eyes avoided mine and stared downward.
"I… don't know either. There are so many things in this world I don't understand. I've asked myself the same things… but like you, I've never found the answers."
I nodded slowly.
"I hope… someday, we'll find those answers," I murmured.
Wilhelm looked at me and nodded. "I hope so too."
That night, we stood beneath a sky too vast to comprehend, and too quiet to reply. But among the distant starlight, we made a vow—a silent promise, that one day… we would find the truth ourselves.
And somehow, I believed…that the day will come.