Nicolo's voice broke through the noise of the jeering crowd, low but urgent.
"What do you think, Alfred? What was her crime?"
I kept my eyes on the woman, watching the way her battered body trembled with every shallow breath. The blood-streaked head in her hands looked heavier than it should have, as if the weight of her sins-or perhaps our own-dragged her down.
"How would I know?" My voice was quieter than I intended, lost beneath the roar of the spectators. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Maybe she did something wrong... but her eyes..."
I hesitated.
A strange unease coiled in my chest as I looked at her again. Her eyes.
I had seen them before. Somewhere.
A memory, just out of reach, gnawed at the edges of my mind. My pulse quickened.
"I think I know her-"
A sharp sting cut me off.
Nicolo had slapped me. Hard.
I reeled back, blinking in shock.
"Again," he hissed, his face tight with frustration. "Three times this week."
I barely had time to process his words before he grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, urgent and laced with something I rarely heard from him-fear.
"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, rubbing my cheek.
Nicolo leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Look around you."
I did.
The laughter and cheers hadn't stopped, but eyes had begun to turn toward me-sharp, watchful, suspicious.
I felt it then.
A shift in the air.
The kind of silence that wasn't silence, but something far worse.
Nicolo clenched his jaw. "They're watching you, Alfred."
And for the first time, I realized-so was she.
A hush fell over the execution grounds as one of the king's guards stepped forward, his gaze cold and calculating.
"Do you know this boy?" he asked the wounded woman, his tone sharp with suspicion.
The woman did not answer immediately. Instead, she smiled. A slow, knowing smile that sent a ripple of unease through the air.
Then, she spoke.
"A long time ago, unknown entities forged a sword capable of destroying an evil being named Gao. However, when they attempted to strike him down, Gao transferred his power into a stone and sealed the sword within it. For thousands of years, the sword remained trapped inside the stone."
Her voice was calm, steady, yet there was something haunting in the way she recited the tale-as if she weren't just telling a legend, but recalling a memory.
The crowd shifted restlessly. A few scoffed. Others exchanged glances of impatience.
But she continued.
**"One day, a member of the unknown entities betrayed them. He sought to break the stone, believing he could unleash the sword and harness Gao's power for himself. But he did not realize-the stone was Gao himself.
The moment he struck it, an immense catastrophe unfolded-the universe was obliterated."**
A murmur spread through the crowd, but it was one of boredom, not awe.
"Yeah, yeah, we all know that old, imaginary story," someone called out. "What does this have to do with the boy?"
Laughter followed. The tension that had settled in moments ago began to fade, replaced by amusement.
But the woman did not laugh.
She exhaled slowly, her bloodstained fingers tightening around the severed head she carried. When she finally spoke again, her voice was softer-but somehow, it cut deeper than before.
"Because the boy is no ordinary child."
The laughter died.
"He is Gao's own son."
Silence.
The execution ground, once filled with jeers and mockery, now stood frozen in eerie stillness.
She lifted her gaze, her eyes locking onto mine.
"He is the descendant of Gao. The only one who can bring the seven swords together... the only one who can become the true 'God of Destruction.'"
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
The air grew heavy, thick with an emotion I couldn't quite name.
For the first time, I wasn't sure if the execution that day had truly been meant for her.
Or for me.