In a place surrounded by lush green mountains and hills on all sides, the sky above was covered with dark clouds. It was raining heavily, and the air was filled with the roars of thunder. Amidst the splashing of water and the thunderous crashes, the clashing of swords could be heard—CLACK, CLACK.
Two men were locked in combat. One was tall and firm, with white skin that glowed like a full moon. His long, silky white hair flowed in the wind, and his grey irises shone majestically. He wore a long silk robe, white with blue stripes. The other man had golden eyes that glowed like the summer sun. His long black hair shone like the starry sky, and his face was as pale as snow. He was clad in a black silk robe adorned with golden stripes.
Their footsteps were swallowed by the rain, but the splashing of water created by their running, coupled with the clash of their swords, formed a majestic melody.
"Why are you doing this, Wumian? Why are you pushing the lower realms toward destruction for your greed? Have you forgotten your morality?" the white-haired man roared, his voice filled with anger.
"What morality?" Wumian smirked. "Does your so-called morality demand I accept my death without retaliating? Is fighting for survival against morality? The morality you speak of is nothing more than an illusion. It's an excuse for the weak to remain weak and a justification for the strong to justify their actions."
"Brother, there is no such thing as morality," Wumian said, delivering a powerful kick to the man's stomach. The blow sent him flying, but he quickly regained his balance.
"If you ask me, it's better to live as a villain than to die as a forgotten hero," Wumian said, swinging his sword with full force.
CLACK! The white-haired man blocked the strike, his teeth gritting with the effort.
"You can't fight destiny," he grunted.
Wumian stepped back, raising his sword to pierce the man. "If being killed is written in my destiny, then killing is too. I'm merely following my destiny, like a pawn," Wumian replied coolly.
The white-haired man dodged the attack and kicked Wumian in the guts.
"Please, do not choose the demonic path," the white-haired man pleaded.
Wumian steadied himself. "What demonic path, brother? Are you talking about the path of those ostracized and neglected by society? Or are you referring to their retaliation against our injustice?" Wumian's voice was cold as he attacked again, landing a blow that injured the man. He fought like a maniac.
"Lunar Steps!" the white-haired man shouted, stepping back quickly. His body began to glow with white ki, and the blood flowing from his wounds mixed with the rainwater, forming a stream at his feet.
Wumian laughed maniacally. "Aren't we responsible for their so-called 'demonic actions,' brother? Why are we good, and they evil? Is it because of their ruthlessness and inhuman actions?"
Wumian's body began to glow with golden ki. The raindrops falling on him evaporated, creating steam. "Tell me, brother, haven't we massacred their children and families in the name of a so-called holy war and purification?" he said, rushing toward the man at an incredible speed. His sword, glowing with golden aura, resonated as he moved with calm, destructive steps. Each footfall left a mark behind.
With a mighty leap, Wumian swung his sword downward with all his strength. "The First Lunar Slice! Ning!" the man shouted, using all his power to counter the attack.
Their clash split the sky in two.
"Are we any different from them? No, we are not," Wumian whispered, his expression emotionless.
The shockwave from their collision pushed both men away. "The actions of those who benefit us are good, and those who harm us are evil. We are evil to them, and they are evil to us," Wumian said flatly.
"Will you even kill me for your ambition, Wumian?" the white-haired man asked.
Wumian smiled, his face lighting up with a grin. "Let's leave that to destiny."
The man smiled too, his body glowing with silver and white ki, steam rising from him. The man place his finger near his face and made a sign.
"Final Lunar Slash! Despair of Tsukuyomi!" he cried out, his voice ringing with power.
The sky darkened as a magnificent figure of a woman, dressed in noble silver robes, appeared above them. She raised a sword to strike Wumian. Wumian joined his both hand and made a sign
"Ananta Vishata!" Wumian shouted, summoning an enormous, black eye with a white hole in its center. The eye released a powerful beam of energy toward the figure.
Wumian paused, a thought crossing his mind. When did it all start? May be it was the day I was born…no it all started that day. Wumian thought about his past.
Many years ago, on a planet named 51R58, a man dressed in a black coat and pants sat in a chair next to a table. He was in a magnificent room. The room was simple, yet magnificent and elegant, with a chandelier hanging above him. The man closed a book and placed it on the table, then looked toward the ceiling. Perhaps he had been reading a novel.
"This story was sort of cliché. I don't know, maybe people love stories like this. I would have loved it too, if I had an ounce of humanity left," the man said. The story of a hero defeating the demon king and uniting the continents—what a happy ending. But was it all worth it? Did the hero want it to end like this? Did he really want to fight to save the world and sacrifice everyone close to him? If not, maybe he could have lived a happy life in a small village with the people he loved. But he fought. No, he was forced to fight. He fought for the destiny that others had imposed upon him.
In the end, he killed the demon villain and united the continents, but he was not happy. He wasn't smiling. He was crying for the people he lost on the journey. So, was it all worth it? If you ask me, no, it was not.
"Who am I to talk about it?" the man smirked. "I, who slaughtered more than half the population of this planet to reach this point, to conquer everything."
"I ALSO LOST THEM FOR THIS FORCED DESTINY," he said with an emotionless face.
Soon, a knock was heard at the door.
"Come in," the man said.
A servant entered the room.
"Master, the Margrit family wants to meet you," the servant said.
"Send them away," the man said tiredly.
"But master, they've come for the third time in a row," the servant replied.
"Did you not hear what I said, Carl?" the man asked with a smile.
The servant quickly ran out of the room as fast as he could.
"What happened to me? Why have I become so generous? If it were my normal self, I would have killed him."
"Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe."
"I think I need to sleep for a while, but I have to meet my heirs. It's fine. This will help them be more patient."
He slept in the dim light of the chandelier.
When he woke up, he found himself lying on a bed instead of the chair. There was no chandelier above him, and the ceiling was glowing brightly.
"How am I lying on a bed instead of the chair?" he thought to himself.
Then he fell back asleep, saying, "I'm too tired to think about it."
After some time, he woke up to some noise. He saw two people standing next to him—one was a man, and the other was a woman. They were talking to him very affectionately.
"How dare they talk to me like this? Execute them, Carl!" he was furious, but he couldn't say the words. Instead, he mumbled like a baby.
"Aww, what's my baby saying?" said the woman, while picking him up.
When he looked at his body, which was now as small as a baby, he screamed as loudly as he could.