a world that operates through despair

It is the year 33,333, and Earth has reached the state of Apocalypse. Waves of destruction sweep across the planet—meteors, blood rain, earthquakes, and other phenomena ravage the land. Humanity, now evolved to live up to 1,000 years, is cut off from the afterlife. Reincarnation is no longer possible, and upon death, the soul faces utter extinction. Sacred lands exist where evil cannot reach, but outside these refuges, only the strongest or most ruthless survive.

In this twisted world, demons have been farmed into weapons by sages, though few sages remain. These weapons, containing imprisoned demonic entities, still exist and can absorb the essence of humans. The stronger the demon within, the more powerful the weapon—capable even of killing other demons. These cursed weapons are coveted and feared, their power tempting those desperate enough to wield them.

Syre stepped into the forest, the air thick with an almost tangible darkness. Each step felt heavier than the last, stirring long-buried memories of pain and loss. as he pushed forward, the long white cloak hiding his face and form. His sword, strapped to his back, pulsed faintly, sensing the demonic presence saturating the woods.

The forest seemed alive with animosity, as though it recognized the intruder in its midst. Shadows twisted and stretched unnaturally, stalking him like unseen predators. The dense foliage swayed, though no wind passed through, and the trees shuddered as though whispering secrets to one another.He had nearly reached the heart of the forest when the trees shuddered around him. The forest's oppressive atmosphere made it nearly impossible to sense anything—or anyone.

Syre’s eyes flicked upward, scanning for movement as a creeping sense of paranoia crept over him. The oppressive atmosphere dulled even his heightened senses, making it nearly impossible to detect what lay ahead—or who.

A sharp rustle broke the silence.

“Well, well, well...” a smooth, mocking voice drawled.

Two figures emerged from the shadows.

The brothers were a study in contrast. Michael, the elder, moved with calm menace, his tall frame cloaked in a battered black coat. His gaze was cold and calculating, the kind of eyes that had seen countless battles and survived them all. Riak, the younger, was wiry and brash, his movements sharp and unpredictable, like a blade that would just as easily cut the wielder as the enemy. Both carried weapons radiating an eerie energy, their edges glinting faintly in the dim light. Syre could feel it—a faint, bitter taste in the air. Their blades were stained with the essence of countless lives.

“Didn’t think we’d find someone stupid enough to wander this far alone,” Riak sneered, his grin feral.

Syre’s voice cut through the tension, steady and commanding. “Turn back. You’ve followed me into demon territory.”

Michael tilted his head, amusement flickering in his cold eyes. His lips curved into a small, humorless smile. “We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

Riak unsheathed his blade, its hum filling the space between them. The weapon’s trapped energy crackled faintly, hungry for more. “Let’s just take him out, Michael. That sword of his... I bet it’s worth more than everything we’ve collected combined.”

Syre let out a faint sigh, his patience thinning. His fingers twitched slightly, brushing the hilt of his sword. “You need to leave. Now.”

But Riak’s sneer deepened, his eyes narrowing as they met Syre’s. His expression twisted into something between fear and awe.

“Brother...” Riak muttered, his voice trembling slightly. “His eyes. They’re blue.”

Michael’s gaze sharpened as he stepped forward, scrutinizing Syre. Then, a low, bitter laugh escaped him.

“You’re right. Those crystal-blue eyes... the mark of the Holy Lands.” Michael’s voice was laced with disdain, a sneer tugging at his lips. “I forgot there were still fools clinging to the myths of God.”

Riak joined in the laughter, though his edge of unease hadn’t entirely faded. “How does it feel, huh? Living in luxury and delusion while the rest of us claw through the filth just to survive?”

Syre’s gaze didn’t waver, though his grip on the sword tightened. The brothers’ bitterness was nothing new to him, but he had no time to address their words.

Before he could respond, the ground beneath them rumbled violently. The forest groaned as though in agony, its branches curling like claws.

The air grew heavy, and dark clouds swirled above, their ominous presence pulling all attention skyward. Crimson droplets began to fall, splattering against the ground like tears of blood.

“Blood rain...” Michael’s voice dropped to a whisper, his amusement replaced by grim understanding.

Riak froze mid-step, his bravado crumbling. “Wait, that means—”

“A powerful demon,” Syre interjected, his voice calm but laced with urgency. His eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows. “It’s here.”

The brothers instinctively drew closer to each other as the forest seemed to writhe with malevolence. The shadows moved unnaturally, twisting and stretching as though something ancient and unspeakable stirred within them.

The demon was coming.

The ground rumbled violently, halting everyone in their tracks. The air shifted—heavy, foreboding, wrong. Syre’s hand instinctively moved to the massive white sword strapped to his back. Its hilt glowed faintly with intricate runes, the blade radiating an aura of purity and immense power, as though alive and attuned to its wielder’s resolve.

Red droplets began to splatter against the cursed soil.

Michael’s expression darkened, his bravado faltering.

Noticing his brother’s unease, Riak scoffed, trying to mask his own rising tension. “It’s just rain. We’ll handle this.”

He sneered, venom creeping into his tone. “If anything, we’ll just feed him to the demon and escape.”

Before Michael could respond, the forest erupted into chaos.

Massive roots burst from the ground, one lashing out like a spear. Michael reacted instantly, shoving Riak aside and deflecting the strike with his blade. The impact sent him skidding, boots digging into the trembling earth as the weight of their situation sank in.

Nearby, Syre leapt back, narrowly avoiding a dark branch that streaked toward him. His eyes closed briefly, focusing to trace the source of the malevolent energy, but the environment was cloaked in darkness, masking the true presence of the entity. “If only I could find the source…” he muttered.

Another strike came. Syre twisted, dodging just in time, but before he could recover, multiple branches surged toward him, crackling with dark energy. He cut through them with precision, his blade a blur of light amidst the chaos.

The forest groaned as a monstrous entity began to materialize from the shadows. Towering and grotesque, its eyes burned with ancient malice. Its deep, guttural roar reverberated through the woods, suffocating the air with its oppressive presence. It was like nothing Michael or Riak had ever seen before.

“Riak! Get out of here!” Michael’s voice rang out again, desperate. A tendril of dark energy lashed toward him, striking his side and sending him staggering. Blood splattered onto the soil.

“Michael!” Riak cried, a sense of powerlessness rushing through him.

Michael rasped, his voice strained. “Don’t... be stupid. Run.” He shoved Riak back, his grip trembling but firm.

“Shut up!” Riak sobbed, his defiance crumbling under the weight of the moment.

Michael’s grip tightened, his voice resolute. “You’ll only slow me down. GO!” He pushed Riak away just as the demon loomed closer.

Riak collapsed backward, trembling, a cry of anguish escaping his lips.

Syre fought his way through the onslaught of dark branches, cutting through them with precision. His focus shifted to Michael, the towering entity above him.

“I’m coming!” Syre shouted, unsheathing his glowing blade as he rushed forward. The runes on the hilt flared with light, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Syre caught Michael’s attention as he looked over toward him. With a weak motion, Michael pointed toward Riak. “Forget about me... protect my brother. He’s all I’ve got...” he muttered, staring up at the entity. His words were lost to the roar of the demon, but they struck Syre’s heart nonetheless.

Riak froze, his gaze following Syre’s as his attention shifted to him. Syre grabbed Riak and rushed him away, pulling him from the line of danger. Above them, an enormous tree branch, crackling with dark energy, swung wildly. It lashed out and decapitated Michael in a single blow. His body crumbled to dust, his life force vanishing into the cursed forest.

The demon let out another roar, chasing after Syre and Riak.

"Michael!" Riak screamed, a shriek of agony, grief, and disbelief tearing through him. He struggled against Syre's grip. “Let me go!”

As the demon roared, its hatred reverberated through the forest, its towering form beginning to retreat into the shadows. Its presence dissolved into the depths of the cursed woods, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

Riak broke free from Syre’s hold, stumbling toward where his brother’s body had been, but it was gone. Sobbing, his grief and anger overwhelming him, he sank to his knees. "Is this a joke?" he whispered hoarsely, his breath ragged. He didn’t understand why the demon had left them alive.

Syre stepped forward, his expression solemn. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words eluded him.

Riak wiped his tears away, his face hardening as a look of determination replaced his grief. “I’m going to get him back,” he declared, his voice unwavering.

Syre watched him, his expression unreadable. He shook his head slowly, his tone cold and distant. “He’s gone…”

There was no warmth in Syre’s voice, no sympathy. He wasn’t one to indulge in feelings, especially not in a moment like this. Emotions were fleeting, and survival—true survival—was all that mattered. His gaze shifted to the depths of the forest, the only thing that mattered now. “Chasing ghosts won’t bring him back.”

Riak shook his head, a fierce light flashing in his eyes, as if he hadn’t heard a word Syre had said. Without another glance, he turned and ran deeper into the forest, chasing after the fading trace of his brother.

Syre sighed, his gaze lingering on the spot where Riak had disappeared. “Emotions…” he muttered to himself, his thoughts distant. They were often the root of people’s suffering, weren’t they? He’d witnessed so much death, so much destruction, that he had become numb to it all. He didn’t understand why people clung to their feelings, why they let them guide their actions.

Then, a sudden realization hit him like a thunderclap. "Wait..." His chest burned with a sharp, consuming heaviness. He clenched his chest instinctively, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he removed the cloth from his chest, revealing a dark crimson circle engraved deeply into his flesh. It pulsed ominously, glowing through his skin with an unnatural, burning light.

“Not again…” he whispered, his voice strained as he fell to one knee, the searing pain taking over. The suffocating presence of the forest seemed to close in around him, pressing down with unrelenting force. He could hear the voices in the air, dark and taunting.

“He's… one of us,” the shadows of the forest echoed, followed by cruel laughter that escaped from the trees.

Syre fought to stay composed. “Focus.” He closed his eyes, steadying his breath, trying to push the moment aside as best as he could. The parasitic voices reverberated through the forest, clawing at his mind. His eyes began to glow a deep red as he gathered his strength, forcing the oppressive weight of the forest back. Slowly, the suffocating darkness began to lift, the voices quieting.

The burning sensation in his chest began to fade, and with a final breath, Syre stood, wiping the sweat from his brow.

By now, he had accepted it. Riak was likely another casualty in this cursed land. But Syre couldn’t let him face the forest alone. If there was even a slim chance to save him, he would take it. And beyond that, Syre had his own mission to complete.

With that resolve, he rushed after Riak, the path leading him into the heart of the forest.

As he turned his attention to the road ahead, his expression hardening he sensed that something in the heart of the forest called to him, and Syre knew deep down that something much darker awaited him there. The ground beneath his feet continued to shift, a cold wind sweeping through the trees. Something larger, darker, and far more dangerous awaited him there. He could feel it in his bones—that entity wasn’t the only force that guarded this cursed land.