The final title card appeared, saying "TRUE PURPOSE."

The scene showed a time skip to four years later. Magjic remained in the now-abandoned alley. The town itself seemed completely deserted. Something must have happened, but the context of his surroundings wasn’t clear.

His appearance had changed. He had become the mature and ominous figure he was destined to be.

Magjic slowly awoke from his slumber.

“How long—” He paused, his voice hoarse. He took a moment to observe his surroundings. His body struggled to adjust, seemingly having been unconscious for four years.

As he gathered himself, his eyes caught a piece of glass nearby. He picked it up and hesitantly brought it toward his face.

The moment he saw his reflection, his breath hitched. The glass slipped from his hands and shattered into tiny fragments on the ground.

His breathing became erratic. Panic set in as he stared at his trembling hands.

"W-what have I become? I look even more like a monster than I once did. How could this have—" His voice faltered as his mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened before and what was now.

"How did everything fall into disarray? It couldn't have been that long… right?"

He thought for a moment, recalling the events of the past.

"Regardless… I'm contemptuous as long as those monsters got what was coming."

Steadying himself, Magjic stood up and stepped out of the alleyway. He took in his new surroundings, scanning for any clues about what had happened. His eyes landed on a nearby pole covered with various posters and notices.

Curious, he approached it and began flipping through the papers. Some were mundane announcements, while others advertised events that had been planned before the town was abandoned.

Then, one poster caught his attention.

His eyes narrowed as he read the urgent warning: a notice urging citizens to evacuate the town due to recent events.

Another poster described a rehabilitation program that had been put in place following a series of violent attacks. The attacks had caused an uproar, leading to countless deaths and severe injuries. Even though no recent incidents had been reported, authorities still deemed the town unsafe due to the lasting impact.

Magjic’s grip tightened around the paper.

“I didn’t think we were such a disgrace… damn it. I hope Skip made it out safely.”

As he shuffled through the posters, his gaze landed on one that sent his blood boiling.

It was a promotional poster for the band the bullies had talked about years ago. The same people who had tormented him had now risen to success—without ever facing the consequences of their past actions.

His hands trembled as he clenched the poster in a fit of rage.

“No—no! They don’t deserve anything!”

His breath quickened. His fingers dug into his scalp as his tone shifted to one of utter distress.

His eyes darted to a nearby store window, where a row of TVs sat behind the glass. Though the town was abandoned, some things remained untouched, frozen in time.

“Maybe I should at least check what’s happening in the world.”

Reluctantly, he stepped inside the store. Dust covered the surfaces, but the electronics still seemed functional. He fiddled with one of the TVs, eager to see what the world had become.

As the screen flickered to life, the daily news broadcast began.

“He never let me watch the news,” Magjic muttered to himself. “Never got why he restricted me. It was always whatever cartoon was on. Maybe this will finally give me a glimpse of what’s happening.”

He stood motionless, eyes locked onto the screen, patiently awaiting the latest updates.

The broadcasts seemed normal at first, but the tone quickly shifted.

The world was on edge.

Riots were erupting. People were breaking into homes, hunting for any remaining imaginary friends. Deranged individuals were exploiting the chaos, committing unspeakable crimes—murder, robbery, kidnapping, and even worse.

Protests were raging, half demanding government action to wipe out all imaginary friends, the other half for political causes.

Authorities struggled to track down the perpetrators of these crimes. Reports flooded in, yet nothing was being done. It was as if law enforcement had either given up or simply didn’t care.

Tension ran high. People seeking a peaceful life were denied that luxury, while criminals walked free without consequence.

Even I was dumbfounded. The world had spiraled into madness, yet the government seemed intent on suppressing any information about imaginary friends.

I had heard about the break-ins, but the protests were news to me. Had there been a government order to exterminate the remaining imaginary friends?

Beyond that, reports of global unrest continued. Conflicting nations. More protests. More riots. The news rarely contained anything positive. Instead, it was an endless stream of suffering, injustice, and cruelty.

One report detailed a tragic story: a family grieving the loss of a loved one killed during a break-in. But instead of receiving help, they were accused. The police, citing a lack of evidence, turned the blame onto the victims themselves.

Story after story, the world seemed devoid of justice. Criminals remained at large. Victims were left to suffer.

At that moment, I wouldn’t have given it much thought. But looking back, I realized how deeply it affected me. Seeing horrors you’re not supposed to witness at a young age—it changes your outlook on everything.

Magjic lowered his head as he continued watching, absorbing each tragedy that unfolded before his eyes. One after another.

Then, his eyes widened.

A different broadcast began.

At first glance, it seemed like good news.

But to him, it was anything but.

The screen displayed the three teens who had tortured and berated him.

The news anchor praised their hard work and determination, calling them an inspiration to young people everywhere. She spoke of their struggles, their journey, their rise to fame.

Magjic’s body trembled. His expression twisted into one of pure rage.

“WHAT!?” 

His voice cracked as he stumbled back.

“That isn’t true! Damn it, they’re evil scum! They abused me! Humiliated me! Took my damn life away! Why—why are vermin like them allowed to walk away scot-free!?”

Tears welled in his eyes. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

“It’s not fair,” he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not fair.”

His sobs grew softer, his cries of anguish filling the empty store.

“What did I do wrong, God? Why am I punished for simply existing? Was my purpose to be discarded like trash? To be hunted down and killed for existing? I… I just wanted to be with him.”

For a few minutes, he wept.

Then, something changed.

His cries faded. His breathing steadied.

A shadow loomed over his face.

A grin stretched across his lips—unnatural, twisted. His teeth, sharp as razors, glistened under the dim light.

His fingers slowly eroded, revealing sharp, pristine claws—like those of a lion ready to strike.

The last shot showed Magjic staring at the screen.

One eye bled with rage, burning with the desire for vengeance.

The other side bore the scar of his past—the reminder of sorrow and despair.

"It is the sin of the world that must be put to judgment. There is no such thing as karma. It is only the punishment of the weak."

His voice was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of something inevitable.

“Sin…” He muttered under his breath.

“The people of sin must be punished. That is my purpose. I’ll make them all pay. No longer will people suffer from hatred. I’ll save everyone, so no one has to experience pain again.”

The scene faded.

The VHS popped out of the player.

All I could do was stare. There was nothing to say or do.

"You are the core reason I ended up how I am. I can't pity or sympathize with what you've put me through. For five years, you left me to suffer and nearly die at the hands of sin.

My name represents a false belief, told by those who want to believe true suffering comes from the ones who harm others. I watched as those who abused and tortured me found joy and compassion, with no sense of justice brought upon them. No more did I want myself and others to leech off monsters who show no care. I wanted to ensure that no one else ended up like me. I wanted to show those in power what true justice was.

I didn’t want what I did to be a selfish gesture. I wanted to bring happiness to those with similar fates. My true purpose had finally been revealed. I now had a reason to live.

I never had the chance to get back at the people who abused me. My friend, whom I held dear—I had hoped he would live to tell the tale. But what I did not reveal was the aftermath of my discovery… the sight of his decaying corpse on the hard pavement.

The mental state I had already endured deteriorated even further. It pushed me beyond my limits. The loss of my only friend, after years of hunger and thirst… and me, not being able to help him live his life to the fullest.

With the complexity of emotions swirling inside me, my objective took a slight detour. I dedicated myself to constructing a robotic jester suit for him. After the procedure was complete, I was finally able to reunite with my friend.

It was such a touching experience. He was finally free from his hellish prison.

Yet, given my earlier experiences, he only added more fuel to the fire of how truly deep-rooted in hatred this world can be. I had been slightly naive about such concepts before, but now, after hearing him speak in depth about his suffering, I could finally piece everything together.

He shared his experiences in a way that shaped me, making me more knowledgeable about the cruelty of this world. We discussed our goals and, in the end, decided to align our visions.

However, he never spoke of what happened to his state of mind. By the time I found him, he was already drowning in the same anger I had experienced not so long ago.

I crafted my designs, and he followed suit.

That was when I realized the outcome of my oppressors' actions—the truth behind imaginary friends.

When an imaginary friend is unloved, they become corrupted over time. They turn into feral beasts that attack on sight, losing all traces of their former selves. Nothing remains of their original personality. Their thoughts go blank.

Now, I finally understood why everyone had been so hesitant toward me.

Perhaps, in another life, a more peaceful outcome could have emerged. But it’s too late to change who I am now. They knew I would become one of them. Yet, somehow, I escaped my predetermined fate.

I wish they understood… we can’t control our own outcomes.

And yet, I was simply a pawn. A pawn of the strong, who abuse the weak.

The strong take advantage of what the weak strive for. The weak either admire or fear those on top.

Your friend used you as a pawn. I was used as a pawn.

I suppose, in a way, I can see your pain. But in my eyes, you are the demon I try to forget.

It is only a matter of patience until the world is set right. People will continue to be contemptuous of their own choices. Only when they learn the truth will they be willing to change their ways. The world will become better, and everyone will finally enjoy peace and prosperity.

All that remains is you. Alone, lost in the thought of a mistake you can never forget. A mistake you can’t change, and never will have the choice to.

As much as it pains me, I cannot change your will.

Despite my previous urges to kill you, after seeing you follow along with my history, I suppose an act of mercy is in order.

Instead, I will be content with keeping you here. So, why don’t you have a seat?”

A chess table sat between us.

The chair on his side was an old, brown court armchair.

On my side, I was greeted with a less-than-pristine dining room chair.

We both sat down to play.

He made the first move, placing a pawn onto the board.

"A2 to A3.”