In a realm separate from the mortal world, two individuals sat in a grand hall, waiting with an air of impatience. Their beauty was otherworldly, so intense that it seemed capable of setting eyes on fire. These two were among the seven gods who ruled the realm. The vast room was adorned with marble pillars topped with golden flames. Apart from the exquisite plants, the only furniture present were the two magnificent chairs upon which the gods sat.
Growing impatient, one of the gods finally voiced his frustration. "Is it time yet? Geez, how long is this loser gonna take?!" He had silver hair and the appearance of a teenager, but his youthful looks were deceiving; he was well over a thousand years old. Dressed in long silver martial robes and possessing golden eyes, his name was Dimitri, the current Celestial Ruler of Magic. Across from him, a woman with a similar ageless beauty smiled gently. "It's almost time," she replied.
Back in the mortal realm, a torrential downpour mirrored the heavens' sorrow. Haruto sat in his room, staring blankly at his TV. At 17, he hadn't been feeling well, his diet consisting mostly of ramen—the only thing he knew how to make. His relatives offered little support, viewing him more as a burden than family. It had been three months since his parents died in a car accident, and the memories of that day haunted him.
Haruto recalled their smiles and laughter as he played his New Genesis game system in the backseat. Unlike most parents, they encouraged his gaming, with his father often saying that video games were becoming very profitable. Haruto had become proficient, even ranking in some of the more famous MMORPGs. They were returning home from celebrating his 17th birthday when a semi-truck, its tire blown, jumped the highway divider and collided with them head-on.
Haruto, the sole survivor, fell into a deep depression. He constantly asked himself, "Why not me?" How could his parents die while he emerged without a scratch? His father was a successful businessman at a Fortune 500 firm, and his mother, an interior designer, had recently been published in a top architecture magazine. Haruto, in contrast, had no career and was not a top student. These thoughts plunged him further into darkness. Even at the funeral, he heard whispers.
"How come it couldn't be the kid?"
"How could the heavens favor such a loser?"
Unbeknownst to Haruto, these cruel whispers were orchestrated by those in the celestial realm.
Weeks of these thoughts led Haruto to a grim decision. He could no longer bear the stares of pity from his parents' friends and the fake sympathy at school. Despite his wealth, he found no happiness. His relatives, who offered to take him in, did so with monetary stipulations, viewing him as a cursed payday. They only cared about the connections his parents had, not about him. They were vultures, ready for their next feast.
Haruto decided to end it all. He left his house, wandering aimlessly until he remembered a nearby cliff. The trail was close to his home, and he slowly convinced himself this was for the best. No one would miss him; he was already a burden. As he walked up the trail, the rain poured down harder, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for what was about to happen. Haruto thought grimly, "What a climatic setting."