-In the distant future-

Mikael was always serious. Whatever he promised to do, he did without hesitation. Not out of pride or duty, but because it needed to be done.

Now, as his sword clashed against his opponent’s, he acted with resolve. "If I don’t do it, no one will," Mikael thought, stepping back before leaping into the air. Gravity bent to his command, pinning his opponent in place.

“Stop using the same damn move, you move spammer!!!” The injured man struggled. He had multiple cuts on his body and a horizontal slash to his face

Mikael descended swiftly, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision.

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“AAAAGGGHHHHH!!!”

The bearded man screamed as Mikael’s sword cleaved him in two.

Plop.

His body fell in halves, dissolving into shimmering dust.

Mikael flicked his sword clean and sheathed it with practiced efficiency. He retrieved a bottle from his pouch that was filled with crimson liquid, and grimaced as he downed its bitter contents. Despite its unpleasant taste, he knew its efficacy well. The more bitter the medicine, the better, after all. Almost immediately, the injuries that marred his body began to heal, leaving not a single scar in their wake.

A cold breeze swept through the field, rustling the grass. In the distance, the sky blazed orange with the dawn’s arrival.

Mikael paused, briefly captivated by the beauty before reality intruded.

“Oh crap. I need to get ready for school,” he grumbled, irritated by the prospect of facing classes on no sleep. Yet, it beat being dead on these plains.

Hurriedly, he tidied the battlefield, erasing every trace of blood until the field looked undisturbed. Satisfied, he made his way home.

Just as night yields to day and day to night, Mikael balances between two worlds alone. Like night’s embrace, he fights to keep the peace, ensuring darkness does not prevail.