"When you truly strive to alter something—perhaps even fate or the very fabric of the world..."

The voice, hoarse and weary, broke through the silence of a dead world. Blood splattered the earth as a harsh cough wracked the man’s body, staining his trembling hand crimson. Yet, his amber eyes, pale and exhausted, burned with a sorrowful but fierce determination.

"You'll soon realize... how powerless your strength is against what is destined..."

Aiden Noah stood alone, the last human in a world stripped of life. His white armor, once a symbol of valor, lay shattered and stained, barely clinging to his battered form. The fabric beneath—torn, blood-soaked—clung to him like the weight of his sins.

Yet, his gaze remained fixed ahead.

There, rising from cracked earth and shadows, stood the last remnant of a once-vibrant paradise: a colossal tree, its branches withered, its bark splitting with agony. The soft, dying pulse of its light flickered—a fragile heartbeat in a lifeless land.

He had searched for this tree for what felt like an eternity.

"It’s unjust..." His voice, ragged with pain and anger, trembled. "Unjust that she, the hero who gave everything... faced nothing but scorn."

The image of her—of Serena—flashed behind his eyes. That radiant smile. So pure. So hopeful. So gone.

Stolen story; please report.

"Chains of unending expectations... and judgment..." His gaunt hand clenched, sharp edges biting into his palm until blood seeped through his fingers. The bitterness within him burned hotter than the wounds on his body.

The ground quivered. From the shadows, the abyss responded.

Grotesque forms emerged, crawling and slithering from the cracks—monstrous parodies of life, humanoid shapes twisted and broken, animalistic horrors with eyes that seared with chaotic purple fire.

They stood between him and the tree. The last obstacle.

A hollow, bitter smirk tugged at Aiden’s lips. “So… even now, you stand in my way?”

The creatures gave no answer—only the scraping of limbs, the snarls of formless mouths, and the seething aura of chaos.

"Heroes and innocents... broken by a cruel world... giving birth to monsters..." he muttered, his voice low and sharp. “What a disgusting, endless cycle...”

His right hand, trembling with both agony and defiance, began to burn. The veins along his arm pulsed with a fiery red-orange glow, racing upward from his fingertips to his shoulder, searing his flesh from within. But he welcomed the pain.

"Then let the evil that plagued this land—" His fingers closed into a fist. “—be sundered by a false hero.”

The air ignited. Flames, raw and absolute, swirled into his grasp, folding and forging into a single weapon—a divine great sword, its edge wreathed in gold and crimson fire. The handle, adorned with intricate patterns of a forgotten era, fit perfectly in his hand.

The abyssal creatures reacted, surging forward, their forms distorting, each step shaking the broken earth.

But Aiden had already moved.