A Little After The End

A Little After The End: Union of the Departed: Prologue

Prologue:

The last days of summer were passing. A cool morning breeze stirred the curtains. He stood by the window, looking out at the street, lost in his own thoughts.

He remembered his first memories by the shore of the Eastern Sea—walking on the sand, hand in hand with his mother, following the line of the horizon. Since childhood, his gaze had been fixed upon the horizon. But in those memories, he stood alone, looking out toward the horizon, a sorrow as vast as the Eastern Sea surging in his eyes.

Sometimes he dreamed. Dreams of endless battles. Dreams of swords and blood and cries that escaped from throats at the edge of death.

But these dreams were not always bitter—like the dream of calm, shining eyes that spoke to him. What beautiful eyes they were, the embodiment of spring with its blossoms.

And that name—he would never forget it, because its owner was the only light left in the darkness of his world. A light that made him sheathe his sword for the first and last time.

The more he grew, the more his memories grew with him, until, before he reached adolescence, the rush of memories came to an end, and the world revealed all that had happened to him. From that day, his world changed.

The truth overturned his world like a raging storm. Mirrors showed him a man whose sword was drenched in blood up to the hilt, a man who returned victorious from wars, conquered lands, and made everyone tremble at the mere sound of his name.

But he didn't run from the mirrors, because no one can hide from the eyes of truth. As a stranger to fear and despair, he simply fell silent, closed his eyes for a few moments, and listened to the whispers of the wind as it murmured old vows and promises into his ears. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was no longer that of a child, but exactly like that lonely figure whose eyes held a sorrow as vast as the Eastern Sea. And so, that weary, wounded soul was reborn after a thousand years, from between the cracks of history.

A thousand years ago, a young demon rose to avenge the deaths of his parents and the people of his city. Under his leadership, the demons conquered many lands and achieved a glory that had once been beyond their reach. So they placed the crown of kingship upon his head and swore loyalty to him with their blood and souls. But that royal robe became a heavy burden on his shoulders, one that bent his back.

Years passed, and the legend of Kian spread across the world. The people of neighboring lands looked upon him as a monster, and that gaze became the starting point of a destruction that would never be repaired.

Kian was weary, but the oath of his followers did not allow him to surrender. On the day he decided to destroy the enemy lands for the sake of his suffering people, he met someone like himself, a lonely, exhausted being carrying the weight of a world on his shoulders: a commander of the human race, creatures who could be crushed with a mere flick of his fingers.

But this human was different. In Kian's eyes, this particular human possessed a will unlike anything he had ever seen in any creature. There, for the first time, he smiled, because for the first time, someone on the battlefield had been able to stand against him and match him blow for blow. After exchanging several strikes amidst the dust that had risen, the two of them finally stopped.

Kian asked, "What is your name?"

The commander of Catharia, the land of humans, looked at him with surprise. "Why do you ask?"

Kian replied, "No one has ever stood before me like this, not even for a single exchange of blows. I want to know who this mortal is who dares to stand against me."

The commander, as sweat streamed from his temple, said, "My name is Sepanta."

Sepanta, the legendary commander charged by the gods to cleanse the world of evil with the holy sword Aletheia. The very mortal called the Child of the Gods, and the one they prophesied that would be the only person able to destroy the Demon King with his sword.

Kian said in a mocking tone, "Sepanta... the commander they said wanted the throne of Tephris?"

Sepanta gave him a tired look. "I do not desire the crown."

Kian once more questioned him: "Then what is your purpose?"

And from Sepanta, he received the answer: "The ending of these pointless wars."

Kian frowned slightly, pointed at Aletheia in Sepanta's hand, and said, "Then set down your sword."

Sepanta smiled faintly and said, "If I set it down, will you sheathe your sword as well?"

The dust had settled by now, and Kian could see Sepanta clearly. He stood calmly, and hope was visible in his eyes, hope, a concept Kian had only seen for years in the spring blossoms of trees.

That day, Sepanta and Kian passed by each other without raising swords towards each other again. That short conversation, lasting only a few sentences, planted a seed of an idea in Kian's mind. The war between demons and humans had been going on for over a century without stopping, and the only result was piles of dead soldiers from both enemy and ally. Now, in the middle of this plain of hatred, on the verge of deciding on a final battle and the destruction of Catharia and its gods, Kian began to think that perhaps he should sheathe his sword...

Weeks passed. The insane hatred between the two nations of catharia and Tephris grew and spread like weeds. But just when the gods themselves stepped onto the battlefield, Kian decided to end this pointless war. So at last, one day, he sheathed his sword in the midst of battle.

That day, the last words he spoke were a vow, and in return he received a vow from a friend.

Now, a thousand years later, Kian had returned to this world, a world that, in honor of the blood that had been shed, had slept in peace for a thousand years. Kian, who now lived as a young demon named Remedio with his parents in Amarantia, the capital of Tephris, was worried about only one thing: that the restless world would also awaken after his own awakening...