And yet, strangely, no one seemed disturbed. No one screamed. Not a single soul resisted. As if it were simply a part of life—a rotten custom passed down from one generation to the next. A culture ingrained into their very being.

And among all who were present, not a single living being showed any concern. They blinded their eyes, deafened their ears, hardened their hearts, as though such evils had never existed before them...

*flip*

...Witnessing such savagery, the wanderer was struck speechless. His eyes could scarcely believe what they beheld. Every street. Every corner. Inside the houses, and beyond them. Corpses, blood, and dismembered bodies defiled every inch of that land.

Within his heart, a burning desire arose—to aid the oppressed. To free them from the suffocating chains of misery wrapped around their necks. But before he could even move, the people around him—those who had seen the same horrors—held him back with force.

They cried out, “Abandon your intentions, O wanderer! To help them is a sin!”

They begged him to close his eyes to all that he had seen, and to all that he might yet see along his journey...

*flip*

...But the wanderer could not accept it. He struggled, trying to break free from the grasp of the hypocrites—those who forced him to be blind and deaf, even if only for a moment. Unfortunately, their grip was so tight that even moving became a struggle.

“Do not be stubborn, young man!” they barked.

One of them even seized his clothing firmly, then spoke in a low yet cutting tone, “If you continue like this, then prepare yourself to face the wrath of god! You will become an enemy of the world, and all of humanity will brand you a sinner! Do you truly wish to trade your life for a lifetime of suffering like that?!”

Hearing those words, the wanderer... could only fall silent.

He stood there, watching innocent people being slaughtered, humiliated, their suffering was twisted into a cruel amusement, as though it were nothing more than material for mockery and ridicule. They were no more than worthless livestock.

Unable to bear witness to such atrocity before him, he turned away... and walked off, regret piercing through his very conscience...

*flip*

...From atop a towering cliff, he gazed down upon the revolting land stretching far below. In the silence, he murmured softly:

“Is it possible... that this cruelty does not exist only here? Could it be that the lands beyond the horizon have long been drowned in the same darkness?”

And there, in that moment, his resolve was forged. He swore, upon the last fragments of humanity still lingering within his heart, to bring an end to this age of madness. He declared war—not only against those who committed evil, but against the corrupt systems and cruel powers that governed the world from the shadows.

Slowly but surely, he began to gather strength. Followers. Comrades in arms. Those who thirsted for justice. Those who sought revenge. Those who longed for change for the homelands that had wept for far too long.

Years passed.
Dozens? No, perhaps hundreds of years had come and gone.

They fought without end. Without rest. Ever advancing from one battlefield to another. One by one, the territories of their enemies fell. They liberated countless lands from the grasp of tyrants. Freed many slaves and pure souls who had suffered within prisons of agony. Their march became the very flame of human hope, a fire that burned away the darkness from a world long fallen and dying...

*flip*

...Until at last, after crossing seas of blood and waves of immeasurable suffering, they reached the pinnacle of their struggle. The mastermind—the bringer of destruction to the world. A wretched being who called himself a king, a messenger of god who resided far above, had finally fallen at the hands of the warriors.

The land that had once been stained with blood was now covered in fresh green grass. The once-gloomy sky now shone brightly, stretching clear and blue. The cries and wails—the chorus of tormented souls—had vanished, replaced by laughter, songs, and joy echoing throughout the land.

They had won!

A glorious victory, redeemed through immeasurable sacrifice. And with one voice, the people crowned the wanderer as their new ruler. As the king of a land reborn...

*flip*

...No one had ever imagined that a stranger—once merely a wanderer without purpose—who had, by chance, stepped into a cursed land, would rise to become such a great king.

Centuries later, he became a king remembered through all ages. A just and compassionate king. A wise and honorable one. Regarded as the true messenger of god. A savior of the world.

He embraced all his people without regard for who they were. He brought peace, tranquility, and hope. Under his rule, Gnosis reached a golden age—a prosperity never before achieved.

Abundance spread across every corner of the land. His name echoed far beyond the boundaries of distant worlds. His people sang praises for him, even the heavens seemed to join in their chorus.

And in the end, a sacred title was bestowed upon him:

The First Mercy.

Long live His Majesty. Blessed be every step he takes. Our great king, King—

“Grandpa!” cried a chubby boy.

“Yes, what is it, my child?” I replied, pausing my story for a moment.

“Grandpa, the story is hard. I don’t understand it. And there are so many strange words too! Like, murder… rape… and… ugh, that one, cannibalism… and… and… what else was it…? Anyway, the story is too hard for us to understand. Explain it, Grandpa!” he said in frustration.

Several other children chimed in as well:

“Grandpa is so bad at storytelling!!”
“Booooring!”
“I don’t get it at all!”
“I can tell a better story than that!”
“Grandpa’s stories are the worst!!”
“You’re so bad at this!”
“What an old man!”
“Huuu…!”

They truly spoke their minds without holding back, voicing all their complaints to me. They mocked me. Teased me. And endlessly went on with, Grandpa this, Grandpa that, and so on, without stopping.

Though I felt a little annoyed, I couldn’t deny it. This… this was entirely my fault. I hadn’t prepared it properly. I had to bear this embarrassment. At the very least, it was a fitting punishment for telling such a dark story to children no older than five or seven.

I gently stroked the boy’s head, then looked into the eyes of the other children, who stared at me with expressions of irritation—yet filled with curiosity.

“I’m sorry, children. It seems my story only confused you. Please forgive this old man,” I said gently. “I’ll do better next time, so you can truly enjoy it. And as for your question…” I paused, pretending to think. “Hmm… you’re right. It seems Grandpa can’t answer that just yet. I’m sorry.”

The chubby boy and the others immediately pouted. No—that wasn’t quite right. It was disappointment.

“Why not, Grandpa?!” he protested, and the others followed, whining and demanding an explanation.

I need to be more careful next time. I got carried away. They were right—this old man truly is a terrible storyteller. How could I tell such a horrific story to innocent children? Without even softening the worst parts first?
…How shameful of you, Orlav.

I said calmly, “It’s not that I don’t want to answer—I really do. But you’re still too young to understand. Don’t be disappointed. One day, when you’re older, you’ll come to understand it on your own… without needing Grandpa to explain it.”

I gently patted the child before me on the head. “For now…” I looked at their sweet, innocent faces, “…just focus on growing up strong and kind, and do your best in your studies. Can you promise this old man?”

“…Alright, Grandpa…” they replied gloomily, the disappointment still clear on their faces.

Seeing that, I could only sigh and smile.

But, without me realizing it, suddenly—

“Grandpa! Grandpa!”

A cheerful voice rang out from a little girl with round cheeks like soft buns.

“Yes, my child?” I replied gently, turning toward her.

“Grandpa, I didn’t really get it… and I’m still kinda disappointed. But!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It made me want to be like the wanderer! I want to become a man—oh! No, wait! I mean… I want to be a beautiful and kind princess!” Her earnestness left me momentarily stunned.

Hearing that, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

Well, even though many of them were disappointed in me, there was still a child like her...

Truth be told, her dream had nothing to do with the wanderer’s story. Yet somehow, her innocence made her incredibly endearing.

I nodded, looking at her warmly. “Of course you can. You will surely grow into a strong and beautiful young lady. And if God wills it, you may become a leader as wise as the wanderer.”

Perhaps I should thank her. Thanks to her innocent remark, the atmosphere that had grown tense began to brighten once more.

One by one, the other children began to speak. Each of them raised their hands, declaring their dreams loudly and confidently. Some wanted to become kings, some leaders, some heroes, and even the strongest in the world. But among them all, the one I liked the most was the quiet child sitting at the very back, who suddenly said:

“I-I… I just want to be a good person,” he said shyly.

I smiled, deeply moved by all of it. And without them even realizing it, the wanderer’s story had planted seeds of goodness within their hearts.

Not long after—

*DONG! DONG! DONG!*

The old bell in the school tower rang, echoing through the air, signaling the end of recess.

I glanced toward the tower, then raised my voice. “Alright, children—” I said, closing the old book in my hands, “—we’ll stop here for today. And as I promised, tomorrow I’ll bring you a new story, a better one than this. Now, it’s time to return to class.”

“Yes, Grandpa!” they replied in unison. They stood up and began walking toward the grand old school building.

Among them, some walked beside me. Some skipped ahead. Some laughed, joked, and held hands with one another. Their laughter warmed the world, as though a single smile from them could lighten all the burdens of existence.

As we stepped inside the school, the little girl beside me suddenly called out in her cheerful voice.

“Grandpa!”

“Hmm?” I responded.

“The wanderer… where is he now?” she asked innocently.

My steps halted at once. The question was simple—yet somehow, it struck my heart with unexpected force. I tried to remain calm, but my eyes betrayed me. There was a deep sorrow within them—the sorrow of someone who had once lost someone dear.

I lifted my gaze toward the crystal-clear blue sky.

“…As for that question… even Grandpa does not know for certain,” I answered softly. “But I believe… he must be in the best place, up there.”

The little girl looked up at the same sky, then smiled brightly. “Mm! He must be up there! In the best place!”

I nodded slowly, still gazing upward. “Yes… you’re absolutely right, my child.” Then I looked at her and smiled. “Now, let’s go inside.”

She nodded cheerfully and ran ahead to join her friends.

Their laughter filled the air as they stepped into the school. I watched their backs until they disappeared beyond the doorway, their voices fading into the distance.

Then, as I always did, I lifted my face to the sky once more… and began to pray.

“O Most High God, we are still here. Though we are wounded within, we continue to breathe. Though the world has changed, we endure. All of this is by Your grace, O Most Merciful. And of course, also by him—our King.

"The blessing You once entrusted through his hands still warms us to this day. Though it is not easy, we remain grateful. Though it is heavy, we continue to bear it.

"We ask You, convey to our King that we have not forgotten him. And that we will continue to uphold his legacy, for as long as our bodies can still move.

"We swear, upon the sacred land beneath our feet, that we will continue to seek a way out of this ignorance.

"Amen.”