The rain did not stop.
It fell without pause, striking the tall windows in a steady rhythm relentless, almost suffocating. At times, the pattern was broken by flashes of lightning that tore through the night sky. For a brief second, white light flooded the room just enough to reveal their silhouettes… before darkness swallowed everything again.
A long table stretched across the center of the room.
Chairs around it were already occupied.
Not all of them.
But enough to make the air feel heavy.
No one spoke.
Not because there was nothing to say.
But because… they were waiting.
Some leaned back in quiet composure. Others sat upright, hands folded, eyes observing without truly seeing. Their auras varied cold, sharp, calm, or simply… dangerous.
They were not ordinary people.
That much was obvious
even without introductions.
Out there, beyond these walls, names like theirs carried weight. In kingdoms, in borderlands, in places that did not even exist on official maps.
And yet, in this room
they sat.
Equal.
Waiting for one person.
Lightning struck again.
This time, it lingered just long enough to reveal something different.
At the far end of the table
near the window
a man sat alone.
His white hair moved slightly with the wind that slipped through the cracks. He did not lean back. He did not move. He showed no interest in anyone present.
His eyes were half-closed.
As if the world before him… was not worth his attention.
And yet
no one in that room dared to ignore him.
Because they all knew
who he was.
Silence lingered.
Longer than it should have.
Then
"It's been a while."
A voice finally broke the stillness.
Light.
Casual.
But enough to shift the atmosphere.
A dark-haired man leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"Fifteen years… and we're still alive. That alone is strange enough."
A few faint smiles appeared.
Not because it was amusing.
But because… they understood.
"Some of us have changed more than expected," another voice followed. a woman, her gaze cold and precise. "I didn't think some of you would remain… intact."
"And some became something worse," someone muttered from the other side.
The exchange carried no warmth.
No embraces.
No emotional reunions.
Only acknowledgment.
That they were still here.
And that… was enough.
A finger tapped lightly against the table.
"So… we're really doing this?"
The question lingered.
Unanswered.
Yet, without realizing it
every gaze drifted toward the same place.
The end of the table.
Near the window.
The white-haired man did not respond immediately.
He simply raised his hand slowly.
Two fingers resting against the bridge of his nose.
A small gesture.
But enough
to return the room to complete silence.
When he finally opened his eyes
there was no hesitation.
No emotion.
Only certainty.
"This world…"
His voice was low.
Deep.
Not loud
but impossible to ignore.
"…has always pretended to be at peace."
He did not look at anyone.
His gaze remained fixed outside, on the endless rain.
"A calm surface… built upon something worse than war."
Silence followed.
No one interrupted.
Because all of them
knew.
"Rules… laws… power…"
He paused.
"…they are nothing but puppets."
Lightning split the sky.
For a brief moment, his face was illuminated.
"And they call that civilization."
A few at the table smiled faintly.
Not in agreement.
But because… they had seen it for themselves.
"So we become its enforcers?"
Another voice rose.
A woman at the far end, her presence cold like winter.
Her gaze was sharp.
Not defiant.
But not entirely accepting.
"Not as heroes… not as rulers… but as something the world refuses to acknowledge."
She tilted her head slightly.
"A syndicate… Gods Laws… all of this."
She paused.
Then asked
"Why are you still clinging to that promise?"
The room fell silent again.
No one laughed.
No one dismissed the question.
Because
every single one of them had asked it before.
The rain continued.
Unending.
The white-haired man did not answer right away.
His fingers still rested against his nose.
His eyes slowly closed again.
As if… he was tracing something far away.
Far beyond this room.
Far beyond all of them.
Then
he spoke.
Softly.
Yet enough
to freeze the entire room.
"…This…"
His breathing was steady.
"…began…"
One second.
Two seconds.
Lightning struck.
"…fifteen years ago."
1945 Oltde...
That night, the sky was covered in heavy clouds.
Rain had been falling since dusk, turning the refugee settlement's ground into dark mud. Small campfires still burned in a few corners while the refugees gathered around the simple wooden buildings they had built with their own hands.
This place had once been quiet.
The settlement stood on the edge of the frontier, far from major cities and far from the main routes of war. The people who lived there came from many lands destroyed by conflict between territories. They built a new life from whatever little they had left.
For them, this place was the end of their escape.
But that night, a sound from the distance shattered the calm.
The thunder of hooves.
Then the clash of metal.
Several people turned toward the wooden gate of the settlement. Dark shapes moved through the mist of rain.
And then light flashed.
A blast of magic struck the gate.
The rain-soaked wood shattered with a deafening crack.
Screams erupted at once.
"Imperial Guard!"
"Run—!"
But there was no time to run.
Armored soldiers in dark armor surged into the settlement like a black tide. The emblem of the empire was clearly engraved on their chests.
Magic burned in the hands of several among them.
A flash of light struck the first building.
Flames spread instantly.
People ran in panic. Some tried to fight back with old swords, woodcutting axes, or crude spears.
But the resistance was never equal.
A man who rushed toward a soldier fell instantly when a burst of magic pierced through his chest. His body collapsed into the muddy ground without a second sound.
Another scream followed
Voices of pain mixed with the sound of rain and the explosions of magic tearing through the night.
Several small children hid inside a concealed underground shelter near the main building of the settlement. Their bodies curled into the corner of the narrow space, hands pressed against their ears as they tried to block out the sounds above.
But the sounds were too close.
Cries of agony echoed clearly through the soil and wooden boards that sealed the shelter.
The thud of soldiers' footsteps.
The crash of something heavy falling.
And screams that ended far too suddenly.
This refugee settlement had once been a place nearly forgotten by the war.
Located on the frontier lands that once belonged to the Zhennang Empire, it became a refuge for people fleeing from many kingdoms. They lived outside the politics of territories, simply trying to survive on land considered insignificant by the great powers of the world.
But war never truly ends.
The great conflict known as the Imperial War had reshaped the map of the world again and again. Kingdoms collapsed, empires expanded, and borders were redrawn by rulers who never witnessed the suffering their decisions created.
When the war entered its second phase, old territories changed hands.
Land once considered neutral became part of a new empire.
And refugee settlements like this… were never granted the right to remain.
Under the increasingly heavy rain, the slaughter continued.
Wooden buildings collapsed one after another.
Fire devoured the rain-soaked rooftops.
Human bodies lay scattered across ground that had turned into red mud.
Several soldiers walked among the corpses, ensuring that none were left alive.
After some time, the sounds of resistance disappeared entirely.
All that remained was the rain and the embers still burning among the ruins.
The imperial soldiers left as they had come.
Without ceremony.
Without mercy.
They abandoned the settlement in complete ruin.
Time passed.
The rain continued to fall through the night.
Blood mixed with water slowly seeped into the soil.
Several days later, among the ruins that still smelled of smoke, the wooden board sealing the underground shelter began to move.
Small hands pushed against it from below.
The debris holding it down shifted little by little until it opened just wide enough for someone to climb out.
One child crawled out first.
Then the others followed.
They stood among the ruins of the settlement that had become ash.
No sound of life remained there.
Only corpses and burned buildings.
Some of the children lowered their heads when they saw the bodies of people they once knew lying on the ground.
Others simply stood in silence, too stunned to cry.
Among them stood a child with white hair.
He said nothing.
His red eyes looked down at the ground around him.
Red, almost the same color as the fresh blood scattered across the mud.
A cold wind passed through the ruins of the settlement.
And in the place that had once been home to those who fled from war… a small ember of hatred began to burn in the hearts of those who survived.