Jhio was never truly a pacifist. Beneath his calm and well-composed exterior, he was a war-hungry general, once feared across the kingdom as one of its most terrifying warriors. His name echoed beyond Hertz's borders through awe and fear.
It was said he had once been a high-ranking member of the 100 Grandmasters, a title reserved only for the most elite. These were the hundred individuals who stood at the summit of power on the continent, each an unrivaled master of their field. Jhio, having attained the peak of swordsmanship,
{The Supreme-Order Sword},
Earned his title as the Bladed Grandmaster Jhio Vi.
By the age of thirty-two, he had become the sixth-ranked Grandmaster and one of the few mercenaries to ever reach the revered Dalet rank. A genius unlike any before him.
He entered the army and quickly ascended the ranks, becoming a general under King Henry the 54th. A few years later, he married his deputy, and even without children, he believed his life was complete. Around that time, he commissioned a legendary blacksmith to forge three numbered swords. Their sheer destructive power earned them global infamy, so much so that enemy nations feared them by name alone.
For a time, Jhio thought he had found his true path in life. But he had momentarily forgotten the cruel nature of the world.
Three years into his marriage, word reached him. His wife's covert operation had been compromised. The entire unit, including her, had taken their own lives to prevent intelligence leaks.
The weight of that news crushed him. Had his loyal subordinates not intervened, he might've descended into madness.
That loss made him question everything: his role as a soldier, the purpose behind each swing of his sword, and the true value of the titles he held.
Unable to bear the emotional toll, he resigned as general and voluntarily relinquished his Grandmaster status. He could no longer stomach the eternal cycle of war, not without losing his mind.
Now…
"Haah... I've failed."
Jhio's breath trembled as he whispered the words, each syllable laced with regret. The once-feared Grandmaster now lay broken before an incomprehensible force.
Footsteps echoed.
Slow. Methodical. Drawing closer.
He heard her boot nudge aside the shattered remnants of the sword he had once believed was the pinnacle of weaponry. Her voice, serene yet brimming with disdain, pierced through the silence as she mocked what was left of his pride.
He didn't need to make sense of it. He felt it, deep in his bones.
She was power incarnate.
And yet, with all her celestial beauty, she seemed something far beyond this realm, a being that belonged among gods.
The two guards didn't move. They didn't need to. She passed between them, her presence alone enough to paralyze. Jhio, stunned and motionless, found his thoughts drifting, drowning under the sheer gravity of her presence.
Radix…
Forgive this selfish old man.
I saw it… the summit of all I had ever wanted, it was just within reach. And the power… it called out to me. It seduced me.
Even though I swore to live for you and you alone, I still reached for my sword over you.
I'm sorry, my child.
She was nearly upon him.
Even now, after transcending the mortal psyche, after forging his mind in war and loss, Jhio felt it cracking. Her presence didn't just dominate the space. It threatened to tear his very soul apart.
Two pieces of metal clanged against the stone floor. Sharp, discordant echoes that Jhio recognized instantly.
They were his Number 1 and Number 0 swords, his finest creations, forged for no other purpose than to embody the title of the Supreme-Order Blade.
She had kicked them aside like scrap. Those blades had once symbolized his legend... now, they lay discarded and useless at her feet.
That weapon… there's no way it's of mortal make.
If only I'd taken the safe route. Ripped open the space during that final attack, escaped with Radix…
Maybe then…
"That would've been impossible."
Her voice, ethereal and condescending, cut straight through his thoughts.
Jhio's eyes widened, breath hitching as he struggled to lift his head. She stood over him, reading his thoughts like an open book.
She offered a faint but cruel smile.
"In every scheme your mind could've imagined, in every timeline, every path, every stroke of chance, there wasn't a single future where you made it out alive."
Her voice rang through him like a tolling bell. Each word struck deeper than any sword, stirring fear that clawed at his soul.
"Why are you even… (cough)… doing this?" Jhio rasped, the pain in his chest growing with each breath.
Her steps halted. For a moment, something in her seemed to twitch, as if the question had stirred something faint, something almost… human.
But she said nothing.
"You…" Jhio wheezed, choking on fear and blood. "Just what are you?"
Her gaze returned to its original emptiness, cold, unimpressed, detached. She stood still, watching him squirm.
Then, her smile returned.
"Vere Deus ex Machina."
The moment the words left her lips, Jhio's sanity shattered.
They tore through his mind like jagged blades, unraveling what was left of his sanity.
"Ahhhhhhhhhghhhhhhhhrhhhhhhhhhghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!" He screamed, utterly giving into fear. He had finally realized just what he had gotten himself into.
[Deus ex Machina],
The cry for a miracle from the rulers of reality. The rulers looks down on the mortal realm, enjoying their stories and their various paths of life. In the event of the need for a miracle in the story of any lesser individual, the individual may be appointed an apostle or apostles can be chosen by the ruler or in rare cases "rulers".
The apostles of the rulers are the incarnations of abnormalities in reality, mishaps and all sort of irregular powerhouses to walk the world. But standing before Jhio was something more 'true' than that, something purer, something much more beautiful, something that should not exist
"Vere..Vere..Vere..Vere..Vere..Vere..Vere..Vere..Vere!!!!!" Jhio screamed again and again, lost in the void of madness, until...
"You're being loud, so go on and rest."
She said as she casually summoned a new sword from nothingness. The sword beamed with the same otherworldly aura as the one from before.
With a swift, effortless motion, she drove it straight into Jhio's chest.
Blood ruptured and spewed everywhere, the pool so rich it stained even the divine blade. Jhio instantly went still, his body falling slack, and thus the last remnants of Grandmaster Jhio Vi faded from the world.
"May your soul be blessed, according to the will of God." She muttered, as she emotionlessly removed her hand from the helm of her sword.
Her foot soldiers remained motionless behind her, still awaiting commands for their master who was currently surveying the landscape of her destruction, seemingly expecting something.
A voice broke the silence.
"Old Man, why is there a man-sized hole in the wal…" a young white haired boy arrived at the scene.
He froze.
Before him stood a woman that radiated divine presence, a holy lady impossibly beautiful, incomprehensibly powerful.
One word slipped from his lips, not out of logic, but instinct.
"...God." He unconsciously worshiped. His eyes darted downward and with a single glance, he understood everything he needed to know.
His guardian
His master
His father
Lay there, lifeless on the ground.
As he fell into despair, the aura in the air shifted. A more ominous presence dominated the area. It's source was none other than the Holy lady.
A rich grin emanated from her lips and a light blush on her cheeks, she turned slowly to face the intruder with a predatory gaze.
"There you are!"