As night fell, the once-luminous streets of the Sword Kingdom dimmed under the weight of an eerie silence. The air was thick with an unseen tension, the kind that clawed at the skin and seeped into the soul. Luna had left for the holy church to meet her father, leaving David alone to wander the desolate city.
The cobbled path beneath his feet cracked and shifted with each slow, deliberate step he took. Streetlights flickered, their glow wavering as if gasping for life. The ground beneath him, once solid, seemed to ripple like disturbed water. But it wasn't water—it was blood. The crimson tide spread out in waves, darkening the path, swallowing the city in its wake. Buildings crumbled, melting into grotesque ruins. The air was thick with the stench of iron, decay, and something far more sinister.
David walked forward, unfazed, though deep inside, an unexplainable weight pressed down on him. His boots sank into the river of blood, the wet squelch of flesh beneath them making his stomach churn, though his expression remained indifferent. His eyes, cold and unblinking, took in the grotesque scenery unfolding before him. Bodies, dismembered and rotting, lay in heaps around him. Some had gaping holes in their chests; others were missing limbs or heads entirely.
And then—they spoke.
"You monster... You killed us..."
The voices clawed at him, desperate, accusing, filled with rage and sorrow. The bodies twitched, mouths moving though their faces were barely intact. Some had hollow eye sockets, others still had their glazed-over eyes locked onto him in eternal horror. Their whispers became cries, then wails, growing louder and louder until they became an unbearable chorus of torment.
David kept walking.
With every step, he crushed bones beneath his feet, his boots splashing in the endless river of blood. The wails followed him, echoing through the dead city. But David didn't flinch. He was no stranger to this. No stranger to guilt, to sin, to the weight of the lives he had taken.
And then, in an instant, the world snapped back to normal.
The blood was gone. The city stood intact. The streetlights hummed, casting their golden glow over the empty road. But David knew better. This was no dream, no illusion—it was a glimpse of what lay ahead. What he had done. What he would do.
He reached the hotel, its towering presence casting long, ominous shadows in the rain. He ascended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. Something was wrong. As he reached his door, his fingers barely brushed against the handle before a deep unease gripped his entire being.
Something was inside.
The moment he twisted the knob, the rain outside intensified. Thunder cracked across the sky, illuminating the room for a brief second. And in that second—David saw him.
A figure stood by the window, watching the storm with an unnerving stillness. The silhouette was rigid, its presence unnatural, suffocating. The moment the lightning struck again, illuminating the room, David saw the mask. White. Featureless. A void where a face should be.
"I've been waiting for you, David," the masked man spoke, his voice eerily familiar.
David tensed, his body coiled like a predator ready to strike. But he didn't move. He only watched, his mind racing.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
The masked man turned slightly, the dim light catching the edges of his mask. "Ah, isn't it obvious?" he said, his tone laced with amusement. "We are the same, you and I."
David narrowed his eyes, analyzing the figure's every move. "I don't know you."
The masked man chuckled—a cold, hollow sound. "Oh, but I know you, David. I know the rage that festers inside you. I know the betrayal that haunts your every step." He paused, letting the words settle. "You seek revenge, don't you? Against the gods who have forsaken you."
David stiffened. A pulse of cold dread ran down his spine. How did this man know?
"Ah," the masked man exhaled, as if savoring the silence. "You've already killed one of them. The God of Thunder, wasn't it?"
David's eyes widened. His breath hitched. His muscles coiled, his hand inching toward the hilt of his sword.
"Who are you?" David demanded, his voice darker now.
The masked man let out a small laugh. "You can't hide from me, David. I know your past. I know your future." He took a step forward. "I know what you will become."
David clenched his jaw. His mind was a storm of questions, doubts, and a sinking realization that gnawed at him from within.
"You and I," the masked man continued, "share the same goal—to kill the gods and reshape this world."
David's grip on his sword tightened. "And what if I refuse?"
The masked man tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. "You won't."
A long, tense silence hung between them.
David exhaled slowly, masking his unease. "Fine. We work together."
The masked man smiled beneath his mask—David could feel it. "Good. Then we are in agreement."
Both of them knew it was a lie.
Both of them knew, at some point, one would betray the other. One would die.
As the masked man turned to leave, he hesitated at the door. "One last thing," he said without looking back. "Don't dwell too much on the sins of your past."
And then, in a blink, he was gone.
David stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, the storm outside echoing the chaos within. He felt it deep in his bones—something about that masked man was too familiar. Too real.
And then it hit him.
That voice.
That presence.
That was him.
David staggered back, his breath sharp and uneven. He had just spoken to himself. A version of himself from a future yet to unfold.
Lightning struck once more, flooding the room with blinding light. And for just a moment, David swore he saw his own reflection in the window—not his current self, but the masked man staring back at him.
Then, the room fell into darkness, leaving only the storm's howls outside—and the whispers of the dead, still lingering in his mind.
But far behind the universe, something far stronger than gods, beyond comprehension, beyond time itself, observed the unfolding chaos. It spoke in a voice colder than the void, whispering in amusement:
"Things are heating up. This will be interesting..."