In a Red Desolate World, a world steeped in endless purgatory .

  Red miasma rolled across cracked earth like smoke from a dying world.

  It clung to everything.

  Everything.

  The jagged pebbles on the ground, the ancient stones scattered like forgotten memories, the ruined remnants of homes long devoured by time, all had that same red vapor, as though they hadn’t been built from stone, but forged directly from agony.

  Far ahead, towering pagodas loomed, impossibly tall structures that pierced the sky like spears thrust at the heavens.

  They weren’t just buildings; they were relics of a forgotten era, crowned with spires that vanished into the red clouds.

  Their surfaces pulsed faintly, alive with the same dread miasma.

  The very air they breathed out whispered suffering, whispered madness, whispered eternity.

  The air was thick enough to burn the lungs. And The scent, if it could be called that, was indescribable. It reeked of anguish, of fury, of purgatory itself.

  It was as if every known calamity, every sin, every punishment conceived by gods or men had been bound together to forge this scarlet realm.

  And in the heart of it all, sat a Throne.

  Surrounded by the kneeling colossi of ancient pagodas, it stood alone, untouched, unchallenged.

  Majestic. Ancient. Desolate.

  Its mere presence warped the world around it. The red miasma twisted toward it like it was praying. The earth cracked beneath it as if even the land itself could not bear its weight. And though the throne was minuscule compared to the pagodas, no taller than a man.

  It radiated such power that it made those sky-scraping titans look like humble acolytes paying silent homage.

  The throne didn’t just sit in the center of this world, it ruled it.

  But the throne itself was no ordinary construct.

  It was not built from wood, or stone, or bone. It was woven entirely from threads.

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  Red threads.

  They squirmed and pulsed with eerie grace, as though each strand was a law that governed this nightmare world.

  They wound together with divine precision, forming armrests, a high back, and a base.

  These threads glowed, not with light, but with power.

  Unyielding. Absolute.

  Each thread radiated an aura so dense, so crushing, it felt like it could command existence itself. Not just dominate lives, but reshape fate, dictate suffering, impose madness.

  And one of this thread, as if nudged by an unseen will, unwounded from the throne.

  It trembled slightly, ominously, as though receiving an unquestionable command.

  Then, it disappeared.

  A new thread formed in it's place, wove into the throne as if none ever disappeared.

  Far in the distance, the place where the lone man used to be, was empty.

  -----

  In Solenthia.

  A thin red thread spun from Jin Yu’s fingertip and vanished into the void.

  The old man flinched, not physically, but spiritually, as if something had just latched onto his soul.

  Overhead, a low rumble sounded. There was no lightning, no storm. Just the sky… remembering.

  The man's eyes widen in horror, he stared at Jin Yu, voice trembling at the edge.

  "W-what did you just do?"

  But Jin Yu ignored him, he walked towards the hole in the dome, and stopped a few meters from it.

  He looked into the distance, at the girl trudging forward, and spoke, voice steady, as if reciting scripture.

  “You know, my father, a great man, far above the likes of your moldy ass, once told me something.”

  He looked upward, eyes glowing with mock nostalgia.

  “‘My son, he said, ‘the world is a good place, but the people in it made it cruel. And always remember: dead geniuses aren't geniuses. They're just cold corpses. Only survivors....get called geniuses.’”

  He smiled, eyes twinkling with theatrical warmth.

  “Simple words, yes. But they burn themselves into the bones if you’ve ever stood alone in a storm with nothing but your will. He wasn’t a saint, my old man...but gods, he was never wrong.”

  He glanced back at the old man, voice turning colder.

  “So tell me old shite, after hearing something so heaven-shaking, so soul-polishing, how could I not be careful? How can I not spit in the face of idealists like you who’d rather die for virtue than live with their hands stained in survival?

  You want me to disappoint my wise father? Tch. Now I see it clearly, you’re the devil he warned me about. The cruel bastard in the kind world.”

  The man’s body trembled, still In shock, his will flared out like a storm.

  His rage surged: boiling, wild, deadly.

  He was seconds from unleashing judgment.

  And Jin Yu just… grinned.

  "Break.it.now"

  The old man commanded, his eyes blaring with fire.

  Jin Yu poked his ear, acting nonchalant.

  The man took deep breaths, his venom filled eyes still locked on Jin Yu.

  Jin Yu only crossed his arms behind his back and looked up at the dome, his expression that of a sage contemplating life mysteries.

  The man continued glaring, wanting nothing more than to crush him to death, but he felt helpless.

  His only source of attack was completely useless against this boy. This strange boy.

  After a while, Jin Yu finally looked at him, with a condescending tone, he asked.

  "How dare you not bow to this young master?"

  The old man's eyes flared up and he trembled from immense anger.

  Then–

  He lost control

  BAM!

  He slammed ruthlessly at Jin Yu with his will.

  Jin Yu was sent flying backward, but rather that colliding into the red film, the dome parted and he crashed heavily on the bridge behind.

  Qi flared around him instantly, shielding him from the heat.

  Ding!

  Ancient Will Detected!

  Absorbing.....

  Ignoring his dimming form, The old man walked forward, his soundless steps seemingly loud and heavy.

  He stopped just in front of the dome, his chilling voice resounding.

  "When you die, your curse breaks." He said simply.

  Jin Yu rose up and looked at the man.

  "I'm afraid... you'll never escape your debt, this young master is destined for great."

  The man's eyes got even more dark.

  "We'll see"

  He muttered.

  Jin Yu only gave him an indifferent look.

  He dusted an invisible dust from his sleeve and saunter off. Towards the gigantic gate in the distance.

  The man's murderous eyes followed his every step.

  He's never felt so helpless in his entire lifetime, like today.