The sky was grey and cloudy.
Crowds of people were gathering and forming, moving with urgency.
All in a rush—to witness the execution of a notorious terrorist.
"Move your ass, damn Spade!"
Large guards marched behind the boy, spears pressed close to his back.
In truth, spears were aimed from every direction—any possible glimmer of escape was already blocked.
His hands were tied tightly behind him, yet he showed no signs of resistance or retaliation.
His face bore the weight of exhaustion.
Dry, flaking brown skin clung to his cheeks, and deep shadows sat under his eyes.
Yet he looked abnormally calm.
Almost like someone who had already accepted their fate.
He began ascending the tall staircase, death from disobedience following close behind.
The climb felt endless, as though the stairs stretched on forever.
But slowly—
Surely—
He reached the peak.
And what he saw was… astonishing.
Hundreds of thousands of people stood below, gazing up at him—at the boy now high above the city.
The architecture completed the scene: homes, taverns, towers, stonework from eras long gone. The entire city stretched out like a painting.
The view was breathtaking. You couldn't describe it in words.
If not for the dried blood that stained the open balcony.
The sky thundered.
It was as if the heavens themselves were angry—howling, rumbling, roaring with fury that matched the crowd's energy below.
From the base of the execution tower, voices erupted like fire.
"KILL THE SPADE!"
A chorus of rage followed.
"YOUR SINS WILL NOT BE FORGIVEN!" her voice raw, as if her vocal cords were being torn apart by the sheer force of her voice.
"YOU KILLED AND TOOK ADVANTAGE OF THE CHILDREN—TOOK FROM YOUR OWN HANDS IN IMMORAL AND DISGUSTING WAYS! AND FOR WHAT? FOR FUN?! YOU MAKE ME SICK!"
"I HOPE THE CREATOR MAKES A PERSONAL HELL JUST FOR YOU!"
"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! YOU CAUSED SO MUCH DESTRUCTION—FOR WHAT?! I BET YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE THE MIGHT TO JUMP OFF, F*CKING COWARD!"
The chants blurred together—rage, grief, laughter, and pain twisted into a singular, suffocating storm of noise. More voices joined. Then more. Until it became impossible to separate the sorrowful from the furious.
It was a sight to behold.
And in the center of it all...
A boy.
So not only am I gonna get decapitated, but I have no fans either? I could cry.
A smirk crept onto his lips, and chuckled a little—
SMACK!
only to be smacked in the head by the behemoth of a man behind him.
He felt like a crumbling fortress—toppled from the very base.as he lost his balance and hit the ground from the force of the slap—only to be aggressively yanked back up in one swift motion
"The f*ck are you smiling for?! MOVE IT BEFORE I KILL YOU MYSELF!"
He barely had time to blink before that same hand was cocked back, ready to pummel his face straight into the cold, unforgiving balcony floor.
The intent to kill was clear.
Then—
"Control yourself, Chief."
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
Smooth. Calm.
A voice like silk, cutting through chaos like a blade through paper.
The towering man in silver-plated armor immediately stood stoically. His fury vanished—replaced by the rigid discipline of a soldier before his commanding officer.
He straightened like a snapped whip.
HEIR, I APOLOGIZE FOR MY INSOLENCE!!"
The other guards followed suit, fixing their postures, standing tall stoically, they obviously practiced day and night for this form of order to be seen.
And below them... the crowd quieted, eyes turned. Murmurs began.
"When did that lady get up there?" the boy asked, holding his mother's hand. He looked about four or five.
She knelt down and looked into her son's eyes—eyes that shined with pure innocence and a cuteness that could melt stone.
"The Highness is fast, She moves like lightning, like a blink of the eye."" the mother said with a faint smile.
"There's a reason she commands an army of millions. And the reason the bad Spade has finally been caught."
The boy beamed, his smile widening like the sun rising from twilight. He was truly the light his mother needed amidst the airborne chaos and negativity.
"That lady is awesome! I hope to be like her one day!"
...
The tension in the square cooled. All eyes now faced the figure at the top of the balcony.
Her presence was divine.
There were murmurs among the unfamiliar newcomers to the city.
Long white hair flowed behind her like silk threads from heaven. Violet eyes burned with authority, set into porcelain skin untouched by time or war. Her body was toned—but still graceful, elegant, untouched by the brutish conditioning of the men who served beneath her.
She had no scars. No cracks.
To the people of the city, she was a doll made by the Creator's own hand.
that of a doll—divine and untouchable. To the people of the city, it was obvious: she was a gift from the Creator.
The Spade—Emir Gedi—now knelt, restrained at her feet
The hilt of her sword rested in her gloved hands, its blade stabbed into the stone with ceremonial precision.
Her voice rang out, echoing through the stone and air:
"Emir Gedi."
"You are hereby sentenced to death for the heinous and disgusting crimes you've committed this past year."
"Before I take your life, you will be reminded of the extent of your evil—so you may know just how vile you truly are... and know your place in hell."
She raised her chin.
And began with his convictions.
"Arson."
"Antitrust violations."
"Extortion."
"Racketeering."
"Counterfeiting."
"Extreme cyberbullying."
"Identity theft."
"Trespassing."
"Larceny."
"Human trafficking."
"Coercion."
"Contributed vandalism."
"Terroristic threats."
"Hate propaganda."
"Cyberterrorism."
"Doxxing."
"Cyberstalking."
"Illicit black web trading."
"Fraud."
"Impersonation of authority figures."
"Tax evasion."
"Creation of extremist online hate forums."
"Creation of AI-generated hate literature."
"Weaponizing public opinion through misinformation farms...."
As the list of crimes dragged on like an eternal drumbeat, Emir began to reflect—deeply, inwardly, quietly—past the noise, past the stares, past even the blade that hung over his life like a guillotine waiting for its cue.
There really wasn't any other way this could've played out anyway. No point dwelling on things in past tense.
I mean, I had the destiny of being a pawn forced onto me by high-ranking executives. This was the only plan I could come up with over the past eight months.
As that bitter clarity carved itself deeper into his bones, embedding itself like a splinter in his psyche— He wished he could've died without ever having that one thought—like one that came to him during a sleep paralysis episode, like accidentally imagining a demon in the dark.
That was the thought that made Emir grimace.
Above him, the elegant Heir finished reciting the long, damning list of crimes—etched into the boy's name, forever revered by the world.
At least, that's how Emir saw it.
"Emir Gedi, your crimes will no longer threaten or harm the lives of the innocent. Your existence, along with your lineage—"
"Yeah, yeah. Just get this over with," Emir muttered, interrupting coldly.
"...For a repulsive, ugly-faced bitch, you sure do love to talk."
Silence.
Then chaos.
"KILL THE UGLY DAMN SPADE!"
The crowd erupted in unified rage, just raw, unfiltered hatred—the kind that burns cities and topples empires. Every face below him twisted in revulsion, their voices rising like a wave meant to drown him.
She raised her sword, crimson and gleaming beneath the sun. Just the motion alone sent a tremor through the crowd—a euphoric frenzy.
The blade hovered. Poised. Positioned it firmly at the base of his neck, then drew her arm back.
Emir was about to die.
And he accepted that.
But even as death loomed inches away, one truth remained with him.
One belief he carried—even on the doorstep of oblivion:
Yeah... this is the only way. The greatest teacher to humanity is dumb ignorance.
And I won't let people stay blind to the truth any longer.
Because I won't sit here and watch humanity be controlled.
The Heir's grip tightened.
The elegant crimson blade began its swift descent toward Emir's nape.
He only closed his eyes for just a second.