Some time later.
No one knew how long it had been.
Time no longer mattered to them — not when each day was about survival or the search for the gentlest death.
They now lived in the kingdom of the underground people, buried deep beneath the surface.
Though expanded, the place was still overcrowded.
Lights flickered, threatening to die out at any moment.
The stone walls looked like they could crumble with the slightest tremor.
Down here, the sounds of desperate prayers, wailing, or curses had become part of the atmosphere.
And in a shadowed corner of this "kingdom," a group of children gathered together.
"Hey, let's go up to the surface and try it out," one child said, grinning.
"But they say it's dangerous up there..." another hesitated.
"That's just what the adults say."
"But..."
"Don't worry. If anything happens, I'll protect you all," one declared with innocent confidence.
Despite one child's concern, the others crept through the tunnels the adults had once dug, determined to reach the surface.
Eventually, they arrived at the cave's mouth.
What met their eyes were the ruins of once-towering skyscrapers.
"That's amazing!" a child exclaimed.
"And they stopped us from coming up here?" another said, breathing in the fresh air.
They played freely under the sunlight, unaware of the presence lurking just beyond the ruins.
Heavy breathing.
Chattering teeth.
Drool dripping steadily from snarling jaws.
"Let's go out farther," one said.
"Yeah, that sounds fun."
Hand in hand, they ran toward the horizon, not noticing the youngest child lagging behind, unable to keep up.
"It hurts..." she whimpered. "Everyone, help me..."
But her cries went unheard as the others had already run too far.
She tried to stand.
And in that instant, a shadow lunged.
Sensing its murderous intent, the girl instinctively dodged. The beast missed — barely.
"What... was that?" she trembled.
The creature was a corpse — twisted by the Star Eater clinging to it. Its form warped grotesquely: countless claws, endlessly writhing tentacles, soulless eyes.
Its jaw, brimming with teeth and drool, held something in its mouth.
No — her arm.
"That's..." she stared in shock. "My... arm?"
Blood pooled where her arm once was.
The scream that followed pierced the dead sky.
"It hurts!... Mom! Dad! Save me!"
Her cries echoed unanswered.
Or so she thought.
A nearby pack of Star Eater-infected corpses heard her and approached, driven mad by the scent of blood and fear.
Clutching the stump of her arm, she could do nothing but cry as they came closer, trembling with primal terror.
Then, in a blur — they were sliced apart. Nothing remained but blood-soaked fragments.
She didn't understand what had happened.
A shadow stood behind her.
She turned slowly, startled.
Halfway through, a thin, scarred hand gently rested on her head, rubbing it softly.
"It's okay," a weak voice said. "You're safe."
Her breathing calmed a little.
The figure reached toward her wound, casting healing magic. A soft white light shimmered as the bleeding stopped and flesh began to close.
"That's amazing..." she said, surprised. "I didn't know people could still use healing magic."
"There are still some," the voice replied, sighing. "But in times like this, most see no point. In a world where a single mistake can end your life... you're lucky to still be here."
The girl's eyes widened.
"My friends!"
She turned to face her savior.
He was a gaunt man — covered in wounds, white hair and a beard that hadn't been combed in ages. His clothes hung in tatters, and in one hand he held a sword.
But what unnerved her most were his eyes — lifeless, hollow, like the monsters.
"Sir..." she faltered.
"It's okay. I'm not one of them," he said calmly. "Just... went through some unpleasant things."
His reassurance eased her, but her thoughts returned to her friends.
"My friends ran that way. Can you help them?"
The man glanced in the direction she pointed, his face growing serious as he shifted into a fighting stance.
"They're coming back. Just... not the way you expect."
Footsteps echoed from the distance.
She looked.
Silhouettes appeared. Familiar heads waved at her.
"Everyone! You're—"
But something was wrong.
As they emerged, she saw their heads — still waving — were no longer attached to bodies. Tentacles held them aloft, gnawing slowly. Blood poured from every hole in their faces, frozen in terror.
"Everyone... NO!"
Her scream attracted the Star Eaters. They rushed forward, eager to feed.
The man pulled her close and swung his sword — a wave of magic cleaving through the monsters.
But for every one slain, more appeared.
"This is tiring," he muttered.
He slammed his hand to the ground, summoning a dust curtain that blinded the beasts.
They attacked wildly — each other, the air, anything that moved.
And when the dust cleared, the man and the girl were gone, leaving behind only the chaos of Star Eaters devouring their own.
They didn't seem to mind. The meat was still warm.
Elsewhere, the man and girl hid within a tunnel.
The girl wept — for her friends, for the fear, for the pain.
The man stayed silent, gently patting her head in comfort.
But her tears didn't stop.
Eventually, they returned to the "kingdom."
As they emerged, they found a crowd murmuring — parents desperate for news of their children.
When the girl and the man appeared, all eyes turned to them.
A woman — the girl's mother — ran to her.
"Are you okay?! Where are the others?"
"They're... all dead." The girl sobbed.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
Then they noticed her missing arm.
"Your arm—" the mother cried out in horror, then turned angrily toward the man.
"Did you do this?!"
"Whatever you think," he replied flatly.
A man lunged at him in fury.
The stranger didn't move — yet the attacker collapsed before he landed a punch.
Too fast to see.
"Don't throw yourself at someone you know nothing about," he said coldly.
He walked through the crowd. No one dared stop him.
Then he paused and looked back.
"Keep your daughter safe. Or you'll regret it."
He continued walking, observing the broken world around him: people collapsed from exhaustion, stealing food, corpses rotting in alleys.
"It's not that bad," he muttered. "Could've been worse."
He walked until he reached a makeshift home — a cave with a rotting wooden door.
He raised his hand and knocked gently.
"Just a moment," a voice called.
He waited.
The door opened. A woman stood there — tired, yet smiling.
"Yes, who—" she began, but then froze. Her eyes widened.
"You... is it really you?"
"Yes," he said. "I'm back. Sorry to keep you waiting."
"My king... my beloved husband... you really came back!"
She rushed forward and embraced him.
The "King" — the former King of Atlantis — held her tightly in return.
Moments passed before their children emerged, searching for their mother.
And what they saw was her — hugging the grave of a man.
They panicked and charged.
The "King" quickly pulled his wife aside and tripped both children, sending them tumbling.
"Ow!" they cried.
The "Queen" rushed over.
"What are you doing?"
"We thought that man was going to hurt you!" one shouted.
She turned to the "King." They both smiled.
"It hasn't been that long. You don't recognize your father?" he asked gently.
"Father?!"
They looked closer.
And then they knew.
They hugged him tightly.
"Why did you only come back now?"
He held them close.
"I'm back now. I won't leave again."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"If you're lying, we'll be mad forever!"
"I know. Let's go inside. It's not safe out here."
Together, the family entered their tiny "home."
Dust clung to everything. The space was bare, the furniture carved from stone, the supplies minimal.
The "King" sat silently, regretful. He should never have left them — but he'd had no choice.
Soon, the family brought out food to celebrate his return: dry bread, small pieces of meat, and chipped glasses filled with precious water.
He looked at the dishes on the table as if they were gifts from heaven.
Then he turned to the mother and her children, smiling warmly at him.
"Why don't you eat with us?" she asked, her voice light and happy.
"It's just... I never thought there would come a day when we could still sit together like this," the King replied softly, his tone tinged with sorrow.
"Well, aren't we here now?" she said, her smile undimmed. "So cheer up."
Faced with his wife's unshakable optimism, he could only nod and quietly join the meal.
It was a simple dinner — nothing extravagant — but it brimmed with warmth, laughter, and moments he wished could last forever.
Afterward, the children offered to clean up, leaving the Queen seated beside her husband.
"So," she asked gently, "why did you leave all this time?"
"I was looking for hope," the King replied, his face growing serious.
"Hope... does it still exist?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I only know that I had to find out if what I found was truly the hope I sought."
From his shirt, the King pulled out a book — the one the stranger had once handed him.
"This is the book from that time," the Queen said, surprised.
"Yes," he nodded. "The book that might still hold hope."
He placed it carefully on the table.
It had changed.
The once indecipherable handwriting inside was now replaced by something familiar — the handwriting of Utopia.
And on the center of the cover, etched with patterns of strange, divine creatures, was a single line written in bold, glowing letters:
— The Book of Solomon —