The night stretched endlessly, painted in deep hues of blue and silver. The moon, full and luminous, hung high above the treetops, casting a soft glow over the sleeping village. The distant hum of the wind through the leaves was the only sound, save for the steady rhythm of Kuro's breathing.
He sat alone on a weathered rock, his eyes fixed on the moon, yet his mind was far away.
"I hope you have forgotten about your good for nothing Brother" he murmured,
yet burdened with everything he had learned.
"Am I a god?"
The question haunted him. He clenched his fists, staring at the hands that had somehow taken another's power—hands that now felt foreign, as though they belonged to someone else.
Footsteps crunched lightly against the damp earth behind him. Kuro didn't turn. He already knew who it was.
"What are you doing out here this late? It's almost midnight," Arthur asked as he laid down on the grass, his silver hair catching the moonlight like threads of starlight,
"Just thinking… if our families have already forgotten us," Kuro murmured.
Arthur chuckled faintly. "Didn't think you cared. Weren't you a criminal? Thought your family hated you—and you hated them."
"I don't have a family," Kuro's voice dropped. "Only a little sister… She always believed in me. even when the whole world turned its back. even when I pushed her away"
He looked up at the sky, the moon reflecting in his tired eyes. "It doesn't matter who I am now. I just want to create a world where she can live peacefully… without the burden of her criminal brother."
Arthur gave a small smile. "You don't sound like a criminal to me."
Kuro's voice broke the silence again. "What about your family?"
"I don't have one either. Just my squad... and my Vice Chairman," he said softly, his tone suddenly heavier.
Kuro recognized the pain in his voice and looked away respectfully.
"We need to find a way back," Kuro said suddenly. His tone held a new fire. "Back to our world."
Arthur sat up slowly, eyes fixed on the moon. He ran a hand through his shimmering hair.
"Alright," he said. "I'll trust you."
"Even if it means fighting these so-called gods," Kuro added quietly.
Then, as if summoned by fate, another presence emerged from the shadows.
A soft rustling, lighter than air, drew their attention. Kuro turned—and his breath caught.
A woman emerged from the shadows, bathed in moonlight.
Her beauty was otherworldly, her silver hair, cut just above the neck, shimmered like moonlit silk, tousled gently by the breeze. Crimson eyes, sharp yet weary—softened by sorrow. Beneath the moon's glow, she looked like an angel itself,
Arthur's eyes widened. "You… You're—"
"I am the little girl you saved"
Her voice was smooth as silk yet carried the weight of years long past.
Kuro and Arthur rose instinctively.
She studied them, her gaze lingering on Kuro as though she could see straight through him. Then, with a small, knowing smile, she spoke:
"So… you have chosen to challenge the gods."
Then, after a brief pause, she spoke again—her voice calm, yet carrying a quiet strength.
"Forgive me," she said, straightening her posture with quiet grace. Her breasts rose and fell gently with every subtle movement, accentuating the regal presence she held beneath the moonlight.
"I am Artoria… the Queen of Elves."
"The old woman told us you were cursed," Kuro said.
Artoria looked to the moon. For a moment, she was silent. Then, softly, "I once dared to challenge them too."
She smiled—but it was empty, the kind of smile born from pain, not joy.
"I was cursed," she whispered, her voice soft but laced with bitterness. "Because I had the power to stand against him."
The wind stirred the leaves as if in response, echoing her pain, carrying her words into the silence of the night.
"If I ever use my gift…" she paused, her crimson eyes glinting under the moonlight, "I will vanish from existence."
Arthur leaned forward; his voice hushed but eager. "But why? Why would he fear your gift so much that he'd curse you never to use it again?"
Artoria didn't answer right away. Her gaze remained locked on the moon—distant, pained, —it was caution. She didn't yet trust them fully.
Kuro broke the silence, his voice low but resolute.
"Do you know anything about the God of Sufferings?"
"He's a monster. He doesn't care about life—about anything. He killed my parents, banished us from our own kingdom, and even now his soldiers raid us without reason."
Her voice cracked.
"I am powerless to protect my people."
Arthur stepped forward. "While we're here, I swear—no harm will come to your village."
She looked at him—softly now—and her expression shifted.
"We are bound by the rules of this world, but it seems you are not" she turned her gaze to Kuro, her crimson eyes fixed at him,
"The God of Sufferings… or Varnok," she said, her voice laced with quiet dread, "possesses the gift to corrode anything he touches, nothing endures. No one can get close to him… let alone leave a scratch."
A heavy silence fell.
Kuro and Arthur's expressions darkened, their faces tightening with unease. The weight of her words sank deep into their bones.
Kuro swallowed hard, a knot forming in his throat. "Then… how did you fight him?"
Artoria turned her back to them, her white hair catching the moonlight one last time. "I'll tell you later," she murmured, and with that, she walked toward the village, her figure slowly swallowed by the shadows.
Only silence remained—quiet, heavy, almost sacred.
Arthur glanced at Kuro, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension.
"No matter what comes… what's decided is decided," he said calmly, then left.
Kuro remained seated beneath the stars, alone once more.
The weight of everything settled on his shoulders.
"Can I really defeat a god?" he whispered to himself. His eyes flicked up toward the moon, gleaming like a distant promise.
Then, softly, as though speaking across time and space, he added,
"Just wait, Ilya… your brother will build a world where you'll live safely."
His fists clenched, trembling with quiet resolve—fingers digging into his palms until they ached.
Kuro woke to sharp, rhythmic thuds cutting through the quiet dawn. Drawn by the sound, he stepped into the cool morning air. The village was silent, its homes still cloaked in darkness.
Drawn by instinct, he made his way past the huts and towards the edge of the forest. The trees loomed tall and quiet—but the sound was louder now.
Then he saw him.
Arthur stood shirtless, fists slamming into the bark of a tree over and over. His silver hair, damp with sweat, clung to his back. Muscles flexed with every blow—coiled strength honed by discipline. His knuckles were red, bruised, but he didn't stop.
Kuro approached quietly and sat at a distance, watching the morning mist curl around the trees.
"You're up early," he said, voice low.
Arthur didn't stop, only paused to catch his breath. "It is important, we rangers were trained 3 hours each day, it was necessary to increase our physical strength for better odds of survival."
Kuro was quiet for a moment.
"In prison… we had to wake at four. First thing—carry weights, haul crates..."
He trailed off. Something itched in his mind.
"I… don't remember what came next."
His eyes narrowed slightly, expression darkening. A flicker of unease crossed his face, the edges of a memory lost in shadow. His heart began to race.
Then—
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion cracked through the silence, the ground trembling beneath them.
Smoke rose in the distance—near the village gate.
Arthur's instincts kicked in instantly. He grabbed his coat, eyes sharp.
Kuro stood, his face set, already moving.