The stage was set.
The officers stood in formation, their weapons polished, their uniforms crisp. The world watched—every screen, every broadcast tuned in to witness the end of a legend.
Some officers removed their hats, a silent show of respect. Others smirked arrogantly, satisfied that justice—or what they called justice—was finally being served.
Yet, beyond their rigid postures and rehearsed procedures, the air was thick with something heavier than law or duty.
Sorrow.
The crowd did not cheer. There were no celebrations, no shouts of victory. Only quiet prayers and muffled sobs.
The boy. The girl. The man. The woman.
All of them prayed for a miracle.
Yet, the god stood beside them.
Silent.
Watching.
Helpless.
Even the sky wept, dark clouds swirling above as if the heavens themselves refused to accept what was about to happen. The wind howled, carrying the cries of the people like a final, desperate plea.
Vitaria watched the empty stage, her golden eyes burning with anger.
Then—
A man was brought forward.
His hands were bound in heavy chains, his eyes blindfolded. Yet, the moment he stepped onto the stage, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The crowd fell silent.
His footsteps echoed, each step slow, deliberate—resonating like the toll of a bell. His chains rattled, the sound sharp and sorrowful, as if they themselves were weeping for him.
And yet…
Despite it all—the silence, the weight of his fate pressing down upon him—he smiled.
A calm, unwavering smile.
As if none of this mattered.
As if death itself could not shake him.
Vitaria grew uneasy with each passing second, her hands clenching at her sides. A storm raged within her, louder than the wind howling through the execution grounds.
I should save him.
No… I shouldn't. I can't. I must not meddle in human affairs.
I was sent here to reincarnate him… not to interfere.
But as she watched him stand there—calm, smiling, accepting his fate without resistance—something inside her twisted.
How can I just watch? How can I stand here and do nothing?
Her fingers curled into fists. Her breath grew unsteady.
She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, trapped in the battle between duty and instinct.
Between godhood and something far more dangerous.
Emotion.
Vitaria took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.
I've never seen a man like this.
More than half of this world's population was praying to save him. The rest were praying for his death.
Two prayers. Two sides.
Which prayer should I listen to?
Which side should I choose—the right or the wrong?
But the answer wasn't simple. It never was.
Because it was always easier to ignore.
Easier to let the wrong win.
But…
She was about to conclude—
But then, a voice echoed from the stage, cutting through the heavy silence.
"The execution of the world's greatest criminal… is about to begin."
The words sent a ripple through the crowd, a surge of unrest.
The executioner stepped forward, gripping Light's chains. With rough, practiced movements, he dragged him toward the hanging post.
The moment his feet stopped beneath the noose, the crowd erupted.
Shouts of outrage. Cries of grief.
People surged forward, their anger no longer containable.
They marched toward the execution grounds, pushing against the barriers, desperation in their eyes.
But the officers were ready.
Batons were raised. Shields locked together. The line held firm.
The crowd was uncontrollable. The chaos surged like a storm, voices rising, hands reaching, their desperation turning into raw defiance.
Amidst it all, the executioner leaned in, whispering to Light with a smirk.
"You've got quite the audience. I wonder how they'll react when they see you die."
But Light…
Light only smiled. Softly. Calmly.
He turned his head toward the crowd, his blindfolded eyes unable to see them, yet somehow… it felt like he was looking at every single one of them.
And then, he spoke.
"It's okay."
The chaos stopped.
The rampage halted.
Not a single voice dared to rise.
The entire execution ground fell into eerie silence.
He continued, his voice steady, resolute.
"It's okay. I chose this path. There's no need to worry about me."
"After all…"
"I am a dead man in a few minutes."
The officers stiffened. Some swallowed hard.
Because they knew the power of his voice.
And if he spoke against this execution…
If he gave a single word of command—
It wouldn't be him who died today.
It would be them.
The executioner's face twisted in rage.
With a sharp motion, he struck Light across the face, the slap echoing through the silent execution grounds.
"Still so calm, huh?" he sneered. Then, turning to the crowd, he mocked them, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"What will you do, huh? What can you do, you bastards?"
He let out a cruel laugh.
The people trembled—not in fear, but in frustration. Their fists clenched, their eyes burned with helpless fury.
And then—
With one swift motion, the executioner yanked off Light's blindfold.
For the first time since his capture, he saw them.
All of them.
Men, women, children—faces streaked with tears, eyes filled with grief. Yet none of them moved. None dared.
They could do nothing.
But Light… he remained calm. Unshaken. His golden eyes scanned the crowd, a silent understanding passing through him.
However, Vitaria was different.
She was shaking.
With rage.
Her divine energy crackled beneath her skin. Her hands twitched, barely holding back the power surging within her.
"Enough."
She was about to act—about to break the very laws she had sworn to uphold—
When—
BANG!
A gunshot rang out.
The executioner staggered, eyes wide with shock. Blood seeped from his chest as he fell to his knees.
The crowd gasped. Vitaria's golden eyes flickered with confusion.
Who?
Then, a voice—shaking, yet determined—cut through the silence.
"I… I can't. I can't stand this."
An officer stood among his comrades, gun still raised, hands trembling.
"Light… even if you don't want your life… we want it."
The world stilled.
The crowd held their breath.
For a moment, hope had a voice.
Vitaria exhaled, her tension easing. A small, rare smile graced her lips.
Because now, no one would be able to lay a hand on Light.
No one was as daring as the executioner—
And they all feared the same fate would await them if they tried.
Light, understanding the situation, slowly stood up.
The moment he moved, every officer raised their guns, aiming directly at him.
But—
No one dared to pull the trigger.
Their hands trembled. Their eyes wavered.
Because this was Light.
And shooting him… felt like shooting something far greater than just a man.
Ignoring the weapons pointed at him, Light took a step forward.
Slowly, he walked toward one of the officers, his hands still bound in heavy chains.
The tension thickened.
The crowd held their breath.
Even Vitaria, for the first time, found herself confused.
"What is he doing…?"
Light stepped closer—so close that the officer's gun was pressed against his forehead.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Slowly, he lifted his head, golden eyes staring into the terrified officer's soul.
Then, in a voice both calm and commanding, he spoke.
"Shoot."
Silence.
Every breath hitched. Every heart pounded.
Even Vitaria stood frozen, watching helplessly.
The officer's hands trembled. His finger hovered over the trigger.
He hesitated.
Light did not.
"Shoot."
This time, it was not a request.
It was an order.
The weight of his voice crushed all doubt, all hesitation—
BANG!
The shot echoed through the execution grounds.
And just like that—
Humanity's greatest criminal was dead.
To be continued....