The sky was black and deep purple, the color of an ancient wound long left to rot. All the clouds had been torn apart, and between them ran a vast, jagged裂—an uneven scar, as though the heavens themselves had been forcibly ripped open. Through that wound, other universes were visible—worlds of color, light, and impossible beauty. They were so breathtaking that, for a fleeting moment, it felt like witnessing a dream rather than reality.
But that beauty belonged only to the sky.
What lay below was its complete opposite.
The ground was drowned in blood and corpses—so horrific that even hell would have seemed merciful by comparison. Everywhere lay broken bodies, torn apart and crushed beyond recognition. Some were missing limbs. Others no longer had faces that could be called human. And these were not only human remains—every race had fallen here.
Severed dragon heads lay scattered across the battlefield, their massive wings ripped apart and discarded like broken toys. Nearby rested the decapitated head of a demon—its horns still intact, its expression frozen in agony, as though it had been tortured long before death claimed it. Inside its open mouth… were the eyes of an angel.
Barely ten meters away lay the angel's own severed head. Where its eyes should have been were only hollow, blood-filled cavities, as if someone had taken deliberate pleasure in blinding it before killing it.
Farther ahead lay the bodies of enormous dragons—some dead, some barely clinging to life. Between them were fallen beings of countless species: beasts, titans, and creatures so strange they seemed born of other realities altogether. Beyond them stood elves, magicians, soldiers—and beyond even them…
Gods.
And here, the scene changed.
All of them—every race, every species—stood in a vast circle. The ring was so wide that no one dared step closer to its center. And there, standing alone, was a single man.
Angels were present.Demons as well.Dragons, gods, beings from every corner of existence.
All in one place.All for one reason.
To kill this one man.
There was no anger in his eyes.No fear.
Only emptiness—an absolute void, as though he had already felt everything there was to feel, and nothing remained. There was nowhere left for him to run. No path of escape existed. Every direction led only to death.
And yet…
He stood there.
Perfectly calm.
He looked at the circle surrounding him and spoke softly, almost thoughtfully:
"Death?" not yet
A divine being raised its voice, the sound tearing through the heavens. "He is our enemy."
The man said nothing. His silence only fed their anger, answering without words.
Then he spoke, calm, each syllable an arrow loosed with perfect precision.
"You all say 'our' so easily."
No one moved. The word echoed inside them.
He paused, letting it settle, then continued.
Everyone listened to him.No one dared to attack.
Not because they respected him—but because no one knew when he would move.
For thirteen days straight, he had been fighting.Thirteen days without rest. Without retreat.
And in those thirteen days—he had slaughtered millions.Alone.
"Our race, our faith, our city, our nation, our gods, our heaven, our hell."
A short pause. Just enough to breathe.
"But tell me, how much of any of it did you actually choose?"
No one answered.
"You did not choose where you were born.You did not choose your blood, your species, or your beliefs."
He spoke slowly. Not for effect—because there was no urgency.
"You simply arrived.The result of an accident of geography and biology."
His eyes didn't harden. They didn't soften either.
"And then you turned that accident into your entire identity."
He shifted his weight slightly. That was all.
"You are not proud of yourselves.You are proud of the place you happened to exist in."
A breath.
"Had you been born a little further away, you would stand on the opposite side today.A little further still and you would curse the very gods you now worship."
His tone didn't rise.
"There is no divine will in this.No demonic conspiracy."
A pause. Short. Controlled.
"Only chance."
Then:
"But after chance comes choice."
He looked at them again.
"And you gave that choice away."
No anger.
"You chose to follow.I chose to decide."
He didn't wait for reaction.
"You hide behind morality.I look only at outcomes."
One last line. Flat. Final.
"That is why you call me a monster—because I betrayed instead of getting sucked by it."
Silence.
"What you do quietly and justify endlessly."
You can kill me if you can,
He continued speaking, and with every sentence he quietly triggered the geo-atomic charges buried across the battlefield—silent switches pressed without anyone noticing.
Then they attacked.
Dragons breathed rivers of fire. Angels loosed volleys of burning arrows. Demons hurled curses that rotted the air itself. The world began to break in slow motion: the earth split open, the sky fell in shards, corpses rose into the air like leaves in a storm.
The man allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
In his mind, he whispered: This is as far as I got in this life. Out of the hundred lives I wished for, only one remains.
A memory flashed—his very first life.
That world had been simple, like ours: no powers, no magic, only people and the choices they made. He had been a gentle boy, born into a home with little money but much love. He understood others instinctively—their pain, their joy. Helping came naturally to him: lending notes to a classmate, assisting his mother at home, walking elderly neighbors across busy streets. To him, kindness was as effortless as water flowing downhill.
But slowly he learned: kindness itself was the problem. The kind are always left behind, because the world uses them. One day he helped a boy at school, only for that boy to betray him and shift the blame. He began to think: Good and evil are just names society invented. Evil takes; good gives.
Gradually he changed. He acted only for himself, for his own benefit. Yet before he died, he wanted to secure a good life for his family so that he would never carry regret. He turned that ordinary world into his playground. He became its richest, most powerful, most brilliant mind—surpassing even the grandest historical figures, achieving what conquerors and tyrants could only dream of. He unified the entire world and pushed civilization far beyond its limits. How he did it would be told later, piece by piece, as fragments of his past surfaced.
The scene shifted.
He stood before a god cloaked in darkness so complete that even light refused to touch it.
The god laughed, a sound like grinding void. "A world with no limits at all. Hah—do you wish to become a god yourself? Entertain me for ninety-eight lives, and I will send you to that very world."
His eyes snapped open in a frail, useless body—neither strong enough to stand nor weak enough to die quietly. Pain throbbed through every limb.
In his mind, he cursed: You bastard. You dumped me into this worthless shell.
Then, quieter: Fine. What's done is done. This is my final life—and it's going to be the most entertaining one yet.