Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a boy. 

A simple boy, living in a simple city.

Tranquil daily life.

A bright sun shines upon his future.

Times pass, Time passes.

The boy's future is now uncertain.

A certain event breaks his heart.

Now just a shell,

He remains himself,

Unsure and scarred.

The path of a coward,

Who never sought conflict,

The path of an eternal loser.

However nothing is eternal,

And the coin flips once more.

Chapter 1: Dead Man Walking

The Ark was now a long way from there. In that same tunnel, they went through to pass the mountain range, Luka and Saki were resting at a campfire for the night.

The journey had been agonizingly silent. After everything that occurred in the Sominium Vale, the young man didn’t even dare to speak a word, expecting to be struck down at any moment by something.

Anything.

But nothing came. Now he was resting, as if nothing had happened, without any punishment. 

The sound of crackling fire filled the damp cavern as they sat across from each other, their gaze locked on the fiery flames. His eyes were hollow, his expression distant. Meanwhile, Saki studied him with a quiet, thoughtful gaze. 

The cold of the cavern felt even chillier as the night started to settle. Their sleeping bags weren’t even ready, yet they couldn’t just sleep on even ground.

Finally, tired from having to endure this silence, Saki spoke up.

“Maybe it’s time to go to sleep. We have more road tomorrow.”

Luka flinched, his gaze snapping to her. He didn’t expect her to talk after so long, as well as to be stirred from his thoughts.

“Come on… You’ll be tired if you don’t,” Saki sighed. 

Luka let out a shallow breath, the heaviness in his chest not lightening but merely shifting. "You're right..." he muttered, standing up with a sigh, as if the act of moving itself was a weight to bear. He started rummaging through his belongings, preparing for the inevitable rest that he knew his body demanded but his mind refused.

But sleep... sleep was the last thing he wanted. Not after what he had done. Not after everything.

He could still hear their pleas, see their face paling in terror as he massacred every last one of them, their questions. 

Why? Just why are you doing this? 

Luka winced as the memory slammed into him again, each question a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He had lost himself in the violence, lost track of reason, lost the thread of what had once been so clear to him. What had pushed him to the point where this—where that—had seemed like the only choice?

The more he tried to sort through it, the harder it became to separate what he had done from who he was. His actions had blurred that line, leaving only a fragmented shell of a person, grasping at something that felt like himself, but no longer quite sure.

He had already crossed a line. And now, no matter how many nights he lay awake in this cavern, surrounded by nothing but cold stone and quiet fire, that line would haunt him forever.

Yet… It was the only choice. But no matter how hard he even thought of justifying it, he felt even worse. 

It was hypocritical. Murder was murder, no matter how you dressed it up, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it was necessary.

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“Luka.” 

Saki’s voice snapped him out of it again. His hands froze mid-motion, and for a long moment, he didn’t realize he’d been absentmindedly digging through his belongings. He hadn’t taken a single item, and hadn’t even known what he was looking for. His mind was so far from the present, trapped in the suffocating grip of guilt, that he hadn’t even noticed the passage of time.

“Sorry… I guess I’m tired…”

Saki watched him carefully, her expression unreadable as always, but there was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel like she understood—at least, in part—what he was going through. She didn’t say anything more, but there was a quiet acceptance in the way she stayed silent, waiting for him to collect himself.

Yet, he wanted her to say something. Anything.

But she already made it clear that she had nothing to say. 

There's no one who will console you, or absolve you. You’re a murderer and that fact will never change.

More than that, he had committed genocide. He had slaughtered countless lives without hesitation. He actually prepared it to the minute detail in a single night.

The bile rose in his throat, bitter and burning, threatening to spill out in a violent retch. He fought to keep it down, but the disgust, the self-hatred, clawed at him relentlessly. Every fiber of his being screamed that he was filthy, that he was irredeemable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no escaping the stain he had become on the world.

He was disgusting. Utterly disgusting.

And yet, as the bile threatened to overtake him, he swallowed it down, forcing himself to breathe, albeit shakily. 

With forced movement, he settled down the sleeping bag and entered it. He gazed up at Saki, who was still watching him intently.

“You’re not going to sleep?” he asked with tired eyes.

“No,” she replied, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “Not yet. I’ll wait for you to sleep.”

Luka’s eyes fluttered closed, but the exhaustion was too much for him to ignore. He half-smiled, though it felt more like a grimace.

“You’ll wait a while…” he muttered, as if trying to push her patience to its limit, though the thought of her waiting made him feel strange, unsettled.

Saki’s smile didn’t falter. “No, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll end up dreaming in a few minutes.”

He didn’t respond, too drained to argue, too lost in his own mind to focus on anything other than the sickening knot in his chest. The cavern was silent, save for the distant crackle of the fire.

And in the silence, Luka felt his mind slip slowly, his body as light as a cloud. Before he knew it, he was already sleeping, gentle whispers cradling him.

Saki sighed, her little trick now done. She knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep in those circumstances, so she decided to force him into a nice dream. 

She closed her eyes, her expression becoming more focused, as she delved deeper into his mind. She sifted through the layers of his thoughts, searching for a memory—something pure, something that could bring him solace.

She wanted to find a core memory, a moment that had shaped him, something that would give her insight into his heart. A souvenir, a promise, something that could reveal who Luka truly was.

His lifelong dream, she thought, would be a good start. It had to be.

But as Saki dug deeper into his subconscious, she hit an unexpected wall. The memory was there—she could feel it—but it was buried so deep, hidden so thoroughly, that it was almost as if Luka had deliberately discarded it. The connection flickered and strained, and just as she was about to uncover it, the mental link snapped, sending a sharp pull that dragged her back to the surface, forcing her to break her focus.

Saki opened her eyes, blinking as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She hadn’t encountered this before. Luka’s mind had closed itself off, deliberately keeping that core memory hidden from view. She could usually sense the shape of a person's dream, the defining moments that had marked them, but this one... this one had been carefully hidden away.

“That’s a first…” she muttered to herself, her tone reflective as she sat back, confusion flickering across her features. She had been expecting to find something that could help him, something that could explain his motivations, his fears, his dreams. But instead, she had found nothing.

It wasn’t just an ordinary block—it was as if Luka himself had sealed that part of him away.

She knew the man was no stranger to self-loathing, but now it was clear. Something happened in the past that made him like that. Back in his world, before he even arrived in Tamia. 

She crossed her arms around her knees, her eyes never leaving his sleeping face. 

“You’re not a bad person but…” she muttered, her mind working overload to uncover his true feelings. 

She knew he felt bad for what happened to the succubi. Yet he carefully planned their genocide.

She knew he saved Morgann back at the castle during the invasion. Yet he said he disliked them.

Everything he had done since they met had been a contradiction. His actions, his words—they didn’t line up with what she could sense deep down inside of him. It was as if, despite everything, Luka was constantly fighting against himself, as if he was trying to prove to himself that he wasn’t a good person, even though everything he did seemed to suggest otherwise.

It was as if Luka had been conditioned to believe that he was only capable of cruelty, that he was destined for ruin. And every time he made a choice that went against that, it only made the internal war inside him grow fiercer.

She sighed softly, glancing down at him once more, her gaze softening. She didn’t have all the answers—not yet—but one thing was clear: Luka was far more complicated than she had first thought.

“You’re not a bad person, Luka…” she whispered under her breath, the words slipping from her mouth as if to herself more than him. “But you’re too afraid to believe it.”

Or rather, he hated to believe it. 

Saki didn’t resent him for his choice to destroy the Sominium Vale. After all, she had no kinship to the succubi there—she didn’t even like them. In fact, she despised them. She could acknowledge that, for the world’s sake, his actions had been necessary. The succubi had posed a significant threat to humanity, and Luka had eliminated it. There was no denying the truth of that.

Had he only killed Violet, though, it would have been another story. Someone else would have taken her research, and Luka would have found himself hunted by the whole Vale. He had made the right choice—however bitter—and in the cold logic of it, she couldn’t fault him.

But what disturbed her was the ease with which he had carried it out. The facility, the precision with which he orchestrated the genocide—it wasn’t just cold, it was... unsettling. The efficiency was too smooth, too practiced. There was something deeply unnerving about it.

How long had he worked that night? How many talismans had he written? How long had he spent preparing the magic, crafting the exact details of the plan? And that echo spell to mimic the queen’s voice—it was cruel, deceptive, and so calculated that it made her skin crawl.

Everything about that day had been sick, twisted to its core. And the ease with which Luka had executed it only made it worse. It was as though he had done it all before—like he was prepared for this exact moment.

“Just like him…” she thought, her mind wandering to a certain person. 

However, she quickly shut off that thought and shook her head. He couldn’t be like him, at least not now. 

Luka still had a chance at redemption, a chance to atone…a chance to be different.

Let’s sleep and see what happens tomorrow. We have a lot of things left to do.