In the city of Ashwind, the faint sound of flames burning echoed.
The flames were faint and quiet, but wherever it sounded, incineration followed.
Pale white smoke surrounded the city, like the Great Smog, covering up every little inch and meter of the wide territory.
And within the pale smog that spread, blood-curling screams and hellish cries of agony resounded like a rough, unpolished cacophony.
The people—citizens of this burning city—had no escape. They were trapped in a foggy hell, slowly awaiting their destined incineration by the crimson red flames within.
Some were lucky and managed to die before being completely burned alive. The others... took until their very throat was broken from their screams to be reduced ashes.
The city of Ashwind has fallen. Fallen from the glory it once stood and dropped to the fiery depths of hell it is now. None were spared by the hellish flames—not even the smallest insects and bugs that were merely existing.
All the same, all turned to ashes. The city was no more; only an ashen city filled with crimson red flames were what remained.
—
Inside the enormous castle in the city, at the deepest underground beneath, a hidden basement was located.
The basement rotted in time, filled with decaying wood and rusty cobwebs, indicating its long-lasting state of perseverance even throughout the long passage of history.
Whether the basement was built from epochs away, or merely an era ago, it didn't matter. For the preserved eternal silence of this basement has inexplicably shattered and been replaced by a melodic tune.
Inside the basement, a melancholic tune played out. The tune echoed like a symphony of post-tragedy, giving the feeling of hopelessness and despair.
While the depressing tune slowly played out, a black-haired man with a fair and handsome face, completely devoid of any expression as though detached from mortal emotions, sat on a royal couch as he mesmerized himself along with the music.
If any person from outside saw this man, their body would immediately move by either the hatred they hold or the fear within them for this figure.
The black-haired man was the devil that caused the destruction outside, Lucas Aillard, the Duke of the Aillard house.
Or in their words, the sinner of royal nobility, the inhumane devil in disguise of human flesh, or the rotten demonic individual that has no bottom-line.
It could be any of those titles, and it would be true all the same.
Lucas Aillard silently moved the cup of wine in his hand to his mouth while his gaze locked on the air, staring at the non-corporeal space vacantly.
It was unknown what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn't thinking at all.
His empty black eyes, along with the depressing tune, composed a rather grim and melancholic atmosphere different from the tragedy occurring outside.
Suddenly, the wine cup moved.
Lucas sighed in resignation, shaking his head. He raised his head to look at the ceiling and closed his eyes after a while.
'...In the end, wasn't it all pointless? The irony of a fool.'
In his twenty-five years of living, that was the answer he had arrived at.
The acknowledgement that living is, as it always was in the past, pointless and nothing but suffering.
Life would throw challenges of insurmountable odds to man... only to grant a slow, inevitable death on man at the end of the challenge they gave.
'...The Gods play favorites and I was the devil's child.'
It reminded him of a popular saying; man proposes, God disposes.
The strength of a human's determination and will didn't matter in favor of the abstract concept called "destiny". It was a fact so blunt and obvious, yet something many people couldn't accept; him included.
He thought of himself as a sage beyond the ordinary mind, a king beyond ordinary flesh, but how foolish that thought was.
King, sage, noble and peasant... there was no difference. They were all but mortal fools in the end.
"Hahahahahahahaha!" Lucas laughed mockingly. "How laughable. This is most likely what that bastard Sage meant. No matter how much strength and knowledge a mortal has, in the end, they were still mortal."
When he was a child, he believed. He believed that logic dictates that as long as he surpasses the pain and torment he felt, he would feel boundless ecstasy and euphoria in the end.
But that was foolish. Naivety.
In every challenge of life, every opposition, every problem in life, even if you surpass and surmount them — it all amounts to goddamn nothing in the end.
The torment of destiny... was infinite.
Lucas chuckled emptily, dropping the cup of wine on his hand to the ground.
Crack—!
In the end, no matter what you achieved; who you were in the world; what kind of person you were while you lived... it's all useless. The only destination of life is death — there was no other ending.
Life is but a stairway to the afterlife, after all.
As the Sage's pupil, he should have already known this obvious truth, but unfortunately, he was still a fool in the end.
Lucas closed his eyes, listening to the melancholic music in the room.
But in hindsight, it wasn't so bad. Death wasn't that bad of an ending.
Only in death there was tranquility and peace. In death, all souls rest peacefully, ignorant and unaware. It was better than living. He was sure most people know that fact.
But unfortunately, all men are masochists — he too, included.
He was far more afraid of not trying than the thought of dying in his journey. The regret that came from death by doing nothing was more threatening to him than any danger that could come from the path he took.
"Even if, at the end, it was all useless..."
Lucas' lips curled into a smirk.
"It was worth it. It was all worth it. Just trying is enough. It was fun while it lasted."
Even if he restarted his life right now, he would still choose this path. He would still pick the same choices. He would still kill the same people that needed to be killed. It didn't matter if his only ending was death.
If he were a fool in life, then he would continue to be one even in death.
In the end, he too, like most living beings, rebelled against death. But unfortunately—destiny opposed him and the gods he blasphemed brought their fury upon him, rendering everything he planned useless.
It was laughable. Though he had failed his goal, he felt no sorrow within himself. Only satisfaction and regret. The satisfaction of being able to live his life until now and the regret of not being able to live past his deathbed.
Lucas closed his mouth along with his eyes as he went back through his memories.
Like any story, it all started when he was a child.
***
Lucas Aillard, The Duke of the Aillard, contained a secret kept from everyone else in the world.
Throughout his life, he harbored.... an incurable disease. At that time, he didn't know if it was even a disease or not—but it felt like one.
He didn't bother to consult any of the imperial doctors on his 'disease' because he already knew that they wouldn't even recognize it, much less cure it.
If it was a disease, then it must have a symptom, right?
It did—and with all things considered, its symptoms were simple. It was so simple that it was just directly laughing at you to just die and give up.
To sum it up, no matter what he does, or will do, the disease within him would force him into an eternal coma in his twenty-fifth year.
It didn't matter what he would do. Even if he advanced his body and reached the levels of the Royal Adjucators in the Kingdom, it wouldn't amount to anything.
How did he know?
In the moment of his birth into this world, the time of his death was already imprinted in his mind. In exactly twenty-five years, on the same day he was born, he would 'die'.
Growing up with such a disease inside him, he feared for his inevitable ending. It didn't help that he was forced to stomach all that fear alone. Shortly after his birth, his mother had died birthing him. Afterwards, his father committed suicide in utter grief and sorrow.
Without any parental figure, and with the addition of being isolated from the outside world in his entire childhood, unable to form any meaningful social relationships; at the measly young age of six... he already understood a grim and harsh truth in the world.
He was alone, and the only person worth relying on was his own self. The self—the ego within him was the only ally he had with him faced against the cruelty of the world.
By that philosophy, he didn't spare anything at his disposal. Using his connections as a duke's heir, he hired teachers after teachers and learned from them. With boundless curiosity and determination, he searched for knowledge and personally learned from the Sage.
His pursuit of knowledge continued until all knowledge he could obtain was finally within his disposal. It took a long while for it to happen, but once it did, no longer was he hopeless in front of his despairing destiny.
With all the knowledge brought immense hope. Hope to overcome destiny itself.
However, when he searched and traveled throughout the world for a solution—even clinging to the myths and legends of the oldened lands... there was still no answer that came to him.
Funnily enough, it was like he was cursed to die.
The following years after his long voyage, he was no longer the same person. He did everything to find a cure, even uprooting the Kingdom he was in.
Unfortunately, it still didn't result to anything but making the entire world as his enemy.
He was akin to a fool chasing the impossible. His actions continued on... until the final twenty-fifth year of his lifespan finally came.
***
"In the end..."
Lucas chuckled bitterly, his body standing up.
"Even with both power and knowledge... I can't avoid my destiny."
Behind him, the servant playing the piano finished. The servant finished the last touches of the composition — ending in a beautiful, melancholic note.
"Igor... you're done?"
Lucas asked, his head turning to the back, staring at the hunched-back butler.
"What was that song you played? It's really good."
"It was made by a deaf, struggling musician... on the night of a full moon, they named it... Moonlight Sonata."
Igor responded clearly.
"Milord, you shouldn't stand up. You're drunk."
"Moonlight Sonata... a beautiful name."
Lucas answered calmly.
"Don't be foolish, Igor... I'm a Royal Adjucator. I could never be drunk unless I wanted to myself."
"Sigh..." Igor sighed, his head shaking. That's exactly what I meant, milord... he opted not to say his thoughts.
Changing the subject, his eyes turned to Lucad:
"Are you ready, milord?"
Hearing that, Lucas paused, his eyes shifting to the middle of the room. In the middle, a well-crafted wooden coffin lay, ready to be occupied.
"...I'm ready."
Lucas nodded, his eyes closing. The moment this night entered a new dawn — he would no longer be able to open his eyelids.
"But before that..."
"What is it, milord?" Igor asked.
It was time to put out a last act of rebellion
"It's nice to light off some fireworks."
Lucas continued callously.
"The day is bright, the sun is shining, the flowers are blooming... wouldn't you agree it's a beautiful day outside?"
If his death was truly unavoidable, then he would die on his own terms; not from destiny nor the gods.
Igor stood, confused about the question. However the words that came after clarified whatever confusion was on his mind.
"Go and activate the explosions; you do have the commands, right?"
Igor widened his eyes in surprise, his body static, unresponsive. It took him a few seconds to process the command.
"Very well... milord."
Lucas nodded, satisfied. The maddened echo of the people's rage resounded throughout the castle, their despairful shouts reverberating... yet he couldn't care less.
If he wasn't going to get his way, then let the world itself burn to ashes. If he couldn't achieve any form of longevity in this life... then let the dust and ashes be his flesh and soul.
He stepped forward, marching steadily to the wooden coffin in the middle of the room. He pushed the lid open as he stared at the empty spot for a moment.
In the end, he was but a master of men…
Lucas put his feet in the coffin. A few seconds later, his body fully occupied the wooden coffin. He stared at the ceiling for a moment. He smiled bitterly.
...but not a master of fate.
He closed his eyes. The clock ticked. At that moment, he felt his conscience sink itself to the dark abyss, drowning his soul in the dark void... completely erasing his mind.
On that day, Lucas Aillard "died".