Chapter 02 The Day the Sky Fell

At the end of the line stood a small boy clutching an action figure to his chest.
Witch Queen, the strongest witch in the world. The boy stared at it, afraid to even blink. He’d been saving his allowance for weeks, counting every coin twice.

When his turn came, he carefully placed the box on the counter.

The cashier — a young woman — smiled down at him.

“Hey there, little man. Big day, huh? Witch Queen fan?”

“Yeah! She’s the best! She fights monsters, the big ones, evil forces and she always wins! I love her so much!”

 “That so? Yeah, she’s pretty amazing, I’ll give you that.”

“I know, right?! She's amazing! When I grow up, I’m gonna marry her.”

 “Ara ma, marry her, huh? You’ve got big dreams, little man.”

“Yeah! I’m gonna be strong like her! I’ll protect people too! One day I will be a Witch King!”

The cashier rested her chin on her hand, pretending to think.

 “Now that's a big dream. Well, you’ll have to polish your magic first. You got mana yet?”

 “A little! My teacher says I can make sparks when I try really hard!”

“Not bad. Keep at it, then. You know, people with good mana live longer. The Witch Queen looks twenty, but rumor says she’s been around for more than a hundred years. But hey, that's just a rumor.”

 “A hundred? That’s like… forever!”

“If you train hard, eat your veggies, and practice those spells, maybe you’ll still be around when she’s free to date.”

He giggled, bouncing on his toes. 

“Then I really gotta try, nice lady!”

The woman laughed and slid the box toward him.

 “That’s the spirit. All wizards start small.”

He reached for his money pouch, tongue poking out in concentration as he counted the coins — one, two, three—

He was just about to hand over the coins.

Then, a flash. Next came the sound, a deep, ripping 'boom' that tore through everything.

His body moved before his mind did. A spark lit inside him, instinct louder than thought. Light burst from his palms, wrapping him in a round, blue bubble. The world vanished in white; sound crushed into silence.

For a moment, it was like being underwater. The light outside flickered, then dimmed. The boy trembled, staring through the barrier at the explosion that had swallowed the city.

His coins floated in the air, slowly falling as the world outside turned grey.

When the glow faded enough to see, his heart stopped.

The store was gone — only its shape remained in dust and drifting ash. The cashier lady still stood behind the counter, smiling the same smile as before… but her skin was pale and cracked, her body turning the color of stone. Before he could even blink, she crumbled, breaking apart into a cloud of white ash that scattered across the air.

He screamed, but his voice didn’t reach past the bubble.

The walls folded in like paper. The ceiling broke away. Shelves and toys flew into the sky and vanished in fire. The ground he’d been standing on wasn’t there anymore — only a crater where the shop had been.

The barrier held.

When the shockwave finally faded, the city was unrecognizable. Buildings leaned against each other, half melted. Flames licked at cars turned on their sides. The sky above shimmered with something like heat — or magic.

The boy fell to his knees, staring at his hands glowing faintly gold. He didn’t understand what he’d done. The only sound he heard now was his own shaking breath.

Then, through the haze of smoke and broken air, something hit the barrier — hard.

The bubble cracked like glass. 

He looked up — confused, terrified — just as the barrier shattered and the impact knocked him onto his back.

Dust filled the air again. Something heavy landed beside him, sliding to a stop.

He coughed, eyes stinging, heart hammering. Slowly, he turned his head toward the shape lying next to him. The glow around his hands had faded. Bits of his broken barrier drifted away like snow.

Then he saw the hat.

A huge white hat with tiny colored flames floating around it — blue, black, pink, orange — like stars that refused to go out.

His heart jumped.

"N-no way. It can’t be—"

She lay there, half-covered in ash, her black flame dress torn. Faint red light pulsed along its edges, like tiny fires trying to stay alive. Her face was pale, streaked with blood, glasses cracked.

It was her.
The Witch Queen.
The strongest witch in the world.

His favorite pro wizard. His hero.

He crawled closer, shaking, his little hands trembling. She didn’t look like the pictures anymore. She looked… tired. Human.

 “Ara ma, thank goodness, you… survived.”

He couldn’t speak. He could only stare.

Her hand slowly rose and rested against his cheek. Her touch was warm.

“You’re strong. That barrier… it was yours, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t understand what she meant. He just wanted her to get up, to smile again like she did on TV, to tell everyone it was going to be okay. That she will save the day as always. That everything is fine, she is there for them.

He pressed his hands against the wound without thinking, just wanting the bleeding to stop.

 “You’ll be okay. Please, you’ll be okay…”

She opened her eyes — faint light still flickering behind them — and looked at him. Her lips curved in a small, soft smile.

“Such a kind child…”

“I—I can help! I’ll get someone—!”

 “No. Stay.”

The air around them pulsed once, faint and gold. Beyond the crater, the smoke cleared just enough to show a glowing dome stretching over the city — faint lines of light forming across the horizon.

“That’s… my barrier. I stopped the villains. And the high-tier creatures… they’re gone. Tokyo’s safe now.”

“You protected everyone?”

“That’s what pro wizards do.”

He pressed his hands harder against her side. 

“Then you’ll be okay too, right? You’ll heal!”

The Witch Queen shook her head, barely moving.

 “No… this is as far as I go.”

He froze, unable to speak. His hands were slick with her blood now. The sight made his stomach twist.

“You did well. That shield you made — you saved yourself. Instinct like that… means you have a good heart. A strong one.”

The boy’s tears fell onto her arm, leaving small red stains on her skin.

 “Don’t go. Please don’t go…”

Her hand rose and brushed his hair back from his face. 

“You’ll keep them safe for me one day. All of them. You have such gentle hands. They’ll do great things.”

“I don’t want great things! I just want you to stay!”

Her fingers lifted, trembling, and rested over his. A faint dark glow began to form between their palms — slow and pulsing, like a heartbeat.

“I'm sorry... but I can't,” she whispered.

The magic spread from her fingertips, winding around his hand like black petals unfurling. It didn’t burn — it felt warm, alive. When the glow faded, a small mark remained on the back of his hand: a black rose tattoo, its stem curling toward his wrist.

He stared at it, confused, tears still running down his cheeks.

“What… what is this?”

 “A gift. My… my will. One day, when the world grows dark again… remember... my name.”

Her hand slipped away from his. The glow around her body brightened, then broke apart into tiny motes of light that rose into the smoky air — drifting upward until they vanished against the faint curve of the magical dome above.

The boy sat there, silent, the mark still warm against his skin.
He looked down at his blood-covered hands, at the black rose shining faintly beneath it — her last touch, her final words.

The Witch Queen was gone.

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 Ten Years Later

The bathroom neon light flickered. Water ran from the faucet, pooling in the sink. A young man stood before the mirror. Sixteen now, but the same small hands gripped the edge of the sink.

He stared at his reflection until it felt like someone else was staring back. Same blue eyes. Same hair that refused to stay down. But the face—the face he loathed.

 He looked away, down to his hands. They were still covered in her blood.

They were clean. He knew they were clean. But his eyes refused to believe it. Even now, he saw it: blood coating his palms, dripping in slow, thick drops from his fingers onto the white porcelain. The Witch Queen’s blood, sticky and warm against his skin.

He turn the faucet on and shoved his hands under the stream. He scrubbed. First with water, then with soap, then with his nails. He scrubbed until his skin hurt. But the blood didn't fade. It never did.