"The pupils shine under the sky, while the earth remains dark."
"Anyone in this world could say they have already heard this phrase. Young, poor, or rich, it has existed since the dawn of time."
"What to think of this phrase? Hmpf... Who cares? The poor say it comes from the sky, a glimmer of hope in a dark world, while the arrogant and distant rich associate it with the devil. But who is right or wrong? Neither. Their vision is shaped by their personal values, which are themselves created by the morality of this world."
"Thus, the morality of this phrase creates their personal values, except that it itself is crushed and torn apart by this same phrase."
"So, what is the purpose of their opinion? What is the purpose of this opinion they have created from their experiences and personal values? If this same phrase is the core of this division and these conflicts in the world."
***
He walked in the rain, the sound of water falling on the ground was almost all that could be heard. His white hair, tied back, stuck to his face. His long black coat floated behind him, worn by time.
He walked through a busy alley, despite the heavy atmosphere that hung over it. The faces of the passersby were closed, marked by fatigue and indifference. Here, no one paid attention to anyone. The city was alive, but soulless.
Suddenly, a man violently bumped into someone while running. He grabbed a woman by the arm and dragged her roughly. She stumbled, and both of them collapsed onto the wet ground. Before she could get back up, the man threw himself at her and began hitting her without restraint.
The man pulled out a knife. Her eyes widened in panic before shrinking.
"Help, please... someone…"
Her scream echoed through the alley, but no one reacted.
No one moved. Everyone watched. Some with a smile, others with fear, still others with no emotion at all. A few didn't even pay attention and kept walking.
The man gripped his knife and struck. Once. The woman screamed, trying to break free. He struck again. She struggled, her strength fading little by little. She screamed, pleading. But he did not stop. He struck again, and again. One final blow. Her body relaxed, and her scream faded into the air.
She was dead…
The man had killed this woman, out of boredom, out of revenge because she had rejected his advances, or for some other reason. The reason didn't matter. It inevitably came from the chaos created by this world.
Despite everything, in this world, there were still pure souls. Even in this city, "The City Without a Soul", they still existed: the children. They were innocent, spared from the harsh reality. A simple gesture of affection was enough to fill them with happiness. For them, the truth of the world was still far away.
Two children ran down the alley, laughing, like a small light bringing a bit of life to this dark world.
A moment frozen in time.
*BOOM*
An explosion tore through the air. A wall of flames devoured the alley. The blast's force ripped everything in its path.
Burning the two children alive. Their scream echoed for a moment before fading away. The explosion devastated everything for hundreds of meters.
The inhabitants watched the fire, the huge flames reflected in their eyes. Behind all this, cries of agony could be heard, others were crying, some were running, while others remained still, simply waiting for death.
Two people emerged from the flames. They were well-dressed, like aristocrats, not from this city filled with poverty. One of them started laughing:
"Ahahahahahaha"
The people around watched the scene with fear. The man then walked down towards a woman crouched on the ground and asked her:
"What are you afraid of? Death? But why? Your lives are already filled with constant death. Every day, you walk like wandering souls, waiting for death. So why cry in front of it now?"
Human beings were like this: they feared death, whether it was the one they expected or the one they didn't. When that moment came, every human would be afraid.
This person had orange eyes, a strange and almost ghostly glow. When he moved his head, a small orange trace followed his pupils, and he did not burn at the contact of the flames. This person was a Pupils.
The people who were supposed to be the light of hope for the poor, those they relied on in this dark world, were now the ones killing them.
The rich, who despised The Pupils by calling them demons, had actually become demons themselves.
"So now... who is right and who is wrong? The rich? The poor?"