Lucas Aillard

In the city of Ashwind, the faint sound of burn echoed.

The flames were silent, but wherever it sounded, incineration followed.

Pale white smoke surrounded the city, like the Great Smog, covering up every little inch and meter of the wide territory.

And within the pale smog that spread, blood-curling screams and hellish cries of agony resounded like a rough, unpolished cacophony.

The people—citizens of this burning city—had no escape. They were trapped in a foggy hell, slowly awaiting their destined incineration by the crimson red flames within.

In any side of the wide city, crimson flames could be seen. Along the flames were screams of helplessness, the sight of burning bodies and weeping of tragic misery.

It was a scene no different from hell spoken in the myths—but this wasn't hell.

It was worse than hell.一個習慣早期感覺自己

The flames of hell punished only sinners—but this flame? It burned everything. Everyone. Man, woman, child, evil or innocent. They all burned into dust. They turned all the same by the fiery fire, mere ashes.

Some were lucky and managed to die before being completely burned alive. The others... took until their very throat was broken from their screams to be reduced ashes.

The city of Ashwind has fallen. Fallen from the glory it once stood and dropped to the fiery depths of hell it is now. None were spared by the hellish flames—not even the smallest insects and bugs that were merely existing.

All the same, all turned to ashes. The city was no more; only an ashen city filled with crimson red flames were what remained.

It was a mortifying and gruesome sight.

"This... the screams of helplessness, the burning flames and air of death..."

In the entrance of the city, a man covered toe-to-head with a long white robe, likened to that of a priest outfit entered while piously praying.

"Pitiful lambs and children of Velsefar. Do not fear no further, for the Holy God has come. Do not struggle anymore, for the Holy God sees all things. Fret not, for your screams... your struggles and fears... it will be avenged."

As soon as he said that, following behind him, a massive army of soldiers lined up and hardened their resolves towards the city. For whatever fear they had coming here—vanished from the sight of they saw.

"Let us march forward, to the home of the devil... The devil who hides underneath the human flesh, Lucas Aillard, the Duke of the Aillard House. For these pitiful people, we must enact justice and retribution to this inhumane monster. Free the souls of thine and commit emancipation for the souls of the fallen!"

As if encouraged by his words, the hatred gathering from the soldiers erupted as they screamed in unison towards the castle in the furthest ends of the city.

"Kill the sinners of nobility! Kill the devils of the earth! Aillard, scum of this planet, on this day forward, your soul may extinguish and your body may rot in hell."

—

Inside the enormous castle they were all marching towards, at the deepest underground beneath the castle, a hidden basement was located.

The basement rotted in time, filled with decaying wood and rusty cobwebs, indicating its long-lasting state of perseverance even throughout the long passage of history.

Whether the basement was built from epochs away, or merely an era ago, it didn't matter. For the preserved eternal silence of this basement has inexplicably shattered and been replaced by an melodic tune.

Inside the basement, a melachonlic tune played out. The tune echoed like a symphony of post-tragedy, giving the feeling of hopelessness and despair... perhaps it was so.

While the depressing tune slowly played out, a black-haired man with a fair and handsome face, completely devoid of any expression as if detached from mortal emotions, sat on a royal couch as he mesmerized himself along with the music.

If the soldiers marching from outside saw this man, their body would immediately move by the hatred they hold for this figure.

The black-haired man was the devil they were seeking for, Lucas Aillard, the Duke of the Aillard house. Or in their words, the sinner of royal nobility, the inhumane devil in disguise of human flesh, or a rotten demonic individual that has no bottom-line.

It could be any of those titles, and it would be true all the same.

Lucas Aillard silently moved the cup of wine in his hand to his mouth while his gaze locked on the air, staring at the non-corporeal space vacantly.

It was unknown what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn't thinking at all.

His empty black eyes, along with the depressing tune, composed a rather grim and melachonlic atmosphere akin to the destroyed city outside.

Suddenly, the wine cup moved. Lucas sighed in resignation, shaking his head. He raised his head to look at the ceiling and closed his eyes after a while.

'...Life is pointless. How utterly pointless.'

In his twenty-five years of living, that was the answer he had arrived at.

The acknowledgement that living is, as it always was in the past, pointless and nothing but suffering. Life would throw challenges of insurmountable odds to man... only to grant a slow, inevitable death on man at the end of the challenge they gave.

'...The Gods play favorites and I was the devil's child.'

It reminded him of a popular saying; man proposes, God disposes.

The strength of a human's determination and will didn't matter in favor of the abstract concept called "destiny". It was a fact so blunt and obvious, yet something many people couldn't accept; him included.

He thought of himself as a sage beyond the ordinary mind, a king beyond ordinary flesh, but how foolish that thought was. King, sage, noble and peasant... there was no difference. They were mortal fools in the end.

"Hahahahahahahaha!" Lucas laughed mockingly. "How laughable. This is most likely what that bastard Sage meant. No matter how much strength and knowledge a mortal has, in the end, they were still mortal."

...When he was a child, he believed. He believed that logic dictates as long as he surpasses the pain and torment he felt, he would feel boundless ecstasy and euphoria in the end.

But that was foolish. Naivety.

In every challenges of life, every oppositions, every problems in life, even if you surpass and surmount them — it all amounts to goddamn nothing in the end.

The pain and torment... was infinite.

Lucas chuckled emptily, dropping the cup of wine on his hand to the ground.

Crack—!

In the end, no matter what you achieved; who were you in the world; what kind of person you were while you lived... it's all useless. The only destination of life is death — there was no other ending.

Life is but a stairway to the afterlife, after all.

As the Sage's pupil, he should have already known this obvious truth, but unfortunately, he was still a fool in the end. Lucas closed his eyes, listening to the melancholic music in the room.

...But in hindsight, it wasn't so bad. Death wasn't that bad of an ending. In fact, he preferred dying like this since he had already planned for it at beginning if all failed.

Only in death there was tranquility and peace. In death, all souls rest peacefully, ignorant and unaware. It was better than living. He was sure most people know that fact.

But unfortunately, all men are masochist — he too, included.

...It was just that death as an ending was too lazy and easy. He was a man of ambition. A struggler against destiny. Sure, death was the easiest choice he could've taken in life, but in the end, he didn't.

He was far more afraid of not trying than the thought of dying in his journey. The regret that came from death by destiny—was more threatening to him than any danger that could come from the path he took.

"Even if, at the end, it was all useless..." Lucas' lips curled into a smirk. "It was worth it. It was all worth it. Just trying is enough. It was fun while it lasted."

Even if he restarted his life right now, he would still choose this path. He would still pick the same choices. He would still kill the same people that needed to be killed. It didn't matter if his only ending was death.

In the end, he too, like any other living being, rebelled against death. But unfortunately—destiny opposed him and the gods he blasphemed brought their fury upon him, rendering everything he planned useless.

It was laughable. Though he had failed his goal, he felt no sorrow within himself. Only satisfaction and regret. The satisfaction of being able to love his life until now and the regret to not be able to live past his death bed.

Lucas closed his mouth along with his eyes as he went back through his memories. It all started when he was a child.

***

Lucas Aillard, The Duke of the Aillard, contained a secret kept from everyone else in the world. Throughout his life, he harbored an incurable disease. He didn't know if it was even a disease or not—but it felt like one.

He didn't bother to consult any of the imperial doctors on his 'disease' because he already knew that they wouldn't even recognize it, much less cure it.

If it was a disease, then it must have a symptom, right?

...Its symptoms were simple.

No matter what he does, or will do, it would force him into an eternal coma in his twenty-fifth year.

It didn't matter what he would do. Even if he advanced his body and reached the levels of the Royal Adjucators in the Kingdom, it wouldn't amount to anything.

How did he know?

In the moment of his birth into this world, the time of his death was already imprinted in his mind. In exactly twenty-five years, on the same day he was born, he would 'die'.

Growing up with such a disease inside him, he feared for his inevitable ending. It didn't help he was forced to stomach all that fear alone. Shortly after his birth, his mother had died birthing him. Afterwards, his father committed suicide in utter grief and sorrow.

Without any parental figure, and with the addition of being isolated from the outside world in his entire childhood, unable to form any meaningful social relationships; at the measly young age of six... he already understood a grim and harsh truth in the world.

He was alone, and the only person worth relying on was his own self. The self—the ego within him was the only ally he had with him faced against the cruelty of the world.

By that conviction, he didn't spare anything at his disposal. Using his connections as a duke's heir, he hired teachers after teachers and learned from them. With boundless curiosity and determination, he searched for knowledge and personally learned from the Sage themself.

His pursuit of knowledge was akin to a hungry devil. It continued until all knowledge he can obtain was finally within his disposal. It took a long while for it to happen, but once it did, no longer was he hopeless infront of his despairing destiny.

With all the knowledge brought immense possibilities.

A possibility to defy destiny.

Using his knowledge and influence, he searched throughout the world for a solution... but no answers came to him. Not even the simplest rumor.

It was like he was covered by the darkness, preventing him from seeing the path of light beyond. That was until he overheard one particular information.

...Unknown to most beings in the world, inside the Castemont Kingdom, there exists a mysterious, mystical fruit called Ambrosia.

It had one simple effect after consumption—it granted immortality to whoever ate it.

That was the hope he needed. Though it was but a mysterious rumor, he didn't spare any chances towards it. After all, it was a well-known fact that the Kingdom held a secret treasure that was hidden for generations and forbidden to let out.

In his mind, it can only be the mysterious Ambrosia. It cannot be anything—otherwise...

Furthermore, when he went to the Master Sage to confirm the information, even the Sage himself confirmed that it was the mysterious Ambrosia.

With that, he didn't hesitate anymore.

Upon obtaining all knowledge and discovering his direction, the first thing he did was start a business. The business took late to gain traction...but once it did; it exploded into massive wealth.

At that time, he personally experienced the power of money. Money could trade anything in the world. He bought off peasants, nobles, authority... and, most importantly, power.

In the world of Velsefar, there exists a body refining cultivation method. It was a method in which one could strengthen one's body immensely with techniques and special medicines. He exploited that and reached a high realm at a young age.

At the mere age of sixteen, he was already one of the smartest and strongest people in humanity, having the knowledge like a Sage and power alike a Royal Adjucators.

With his wealth, power and wit — it attracted the people in the same class as him — his intelligence, although alike the Sage, was different from anything others have seen before. His mind showcased a cunning demonic mentality that even the royal family feared.

With money, connections and overwhelming power at his disposal... It didn't take long before he became one of the most authoritative and strongest people in the whole Empire that even the King himself feared.

But of course, after achieving power and wealth... he didn't forget the reason he was in such a position after all. At the age of twenty, the start of his plans and schemes finally begun and came to fruition.

The business; the connections, and even the strength he had obtained during the past years... were but mere tools in achieving his goal.

All of those were but a means to an end.

Things were going well.

In the three major steps of conquering a nation; he managed to fulfill all three without fail.

Step one, to conquer the economy. This was the hardest and yet easiest part of the rest; with the business he started as a child, he slowly took control of the Kingdom's money flow.

Step two, to conquer the military and the officials. In this regard, as one of the most powerful and authoritative people in the world—he easily managed to convince the other nobles of his plans to overthrow the Royal Family.

And with the majority of the officials' support on his back, taking control of the military was fairly easy.

And finally, the last step — step three — to conquer the masses. Using the secrets he had found in the past years, he twisted the public's perception of the Royal Family and let a rebellion arise under his control.

He funded and took care of the rebellion for future use and it didn't disappoint. It proved to be one of core trump cards that prevented his plans to fail in the end.

With all three steps completed without fail, the success of his long-life goal was finally coming to fruition... at least that's what he thought at that time.

However...!

Upon reaching the furthest depths of kingdom and conquering the royal-bloodline, there was no... Ambrosia in sight. There was a treasure; but it was not the fabled Ambrosia.

It was a mere, useless ancestral treasure that had no use to him. At that time, inexplicably his head and heart was calm as an ocean with no ripples. It was as if he already expected this result to happen.

It was true.

Because in the end, he knew that he had no chance. He knew that it would be... a complete, utter failure in the end. But he still tried, and yet failed.

That was testament to his inevitable destined death.

In the end, he left the treasure room. He returned to the royal palace and when he was going back, he met his illustratious teacher, the Master Sage.

The Sage seemed in peace, with the aura of a calm and gentle breeze radiating around him.

In that instant when he saw the Master Sage, he immediately understood. At that time he laughed. He laughed. One of his biggest encouragement to pursue the Ambrosia was the assurance of his teacher.

But in actuality, that assurance... was that of his death.

Then again, what was he surprised of? With his profound understanding of the human heart and intelligence, he already saw through this trickery before everything.

He just didn't bother to think about it.

He wanted to be a fool.

After all, a man in desperate straits grasp on thin straws. Even if it was the most foolish and unbelievable hope, he chose to believe it.

A fool he was, in the end. He chose to ignore reality and rather believed a fantasy.

At that time, no words were spoken between them. He could've killed his teacher right then and there, but he didn't. It was useless. In the battle against destiny, he lost.

All his effort... hard-work and struggles... gone. It vanished; reminding him of the foregone conclusion of his death.

***

"In the end..."

Lucas chuckled bitterly, his body standing up.

"Even with both power and knowledge... I can't avoid my destiny."

Behind him, the servant playing the piano finished. The servant finished the last touches of the composition — ending in a beautiful, melancholic note.

"Igor... you're done?" Lucas asked, his head turning to the back, staring at the hunched-back butler. "What was that song you played? It's really good."

"It was made by a deaf, struggling musician... In the night of a full moon, they named it... Moonlight Sonata." Igor responded clearly. "Milord, you shouldn't stand up. You're drunk."

"Moonlight Sonata... a beautiful name." Lucas answered calmly. "As well... I'm a Royal Adjucator. I could never be drunk unless I wanted to myself."

"Sigh..." Igor sighed, his head shaking. That's exactly what I meant, milord... he opted not to say his thoughts. "Are you ready, milord?"

Lucas paused, his eyes shifting to the middle of the room. In the middle, a well-crafted wooden coffin lay, ready to be occupied.

"...I'm ready." Lucas nodded, his eyes closing. The moment this night entered a new dawn — he would no longer be able to open his eyelids. "But before that..."

"What is it, milord?" Igor asked.

It was time to put out a last act of rebellion

"It's nice to light off some fireworks." Lucas continued callously. "The day is bright, the sun is shining, the flowers are blooming... wouldn't you agree it's a beautiful day outside?"

If his death was truly unavoidable, then he would die on his own terms; not from destiny nor the gods.

Igor stood, confused of the question. However the words that came after clarified what ever confusion on his mind.

"Go and activate the explosions; you do have the commands, right?"

Igor widened his eyes in surprise, his body static, unresponsive. He... was finally going to die. It took him a few seconds to process the command.

"Very well... milord."

Lucas nodded, satisfied. The maddened echo of the people's rage resounded throughout the castle, their despairful shouts reverberating... yet he couldn't care less.

If he wasn't going to get his way, then let the world itself burn to ashes. If he couldn't achieve any form of longevity in this life... then let the dust and ashes be his flesh and soul.

He stepped forward, marching steadily to the wooden coffin in the middle of the room. He pushed the lid open as he stared at the empty spot for a moment.

In the end, he was but a master of men...

Lucas put his feet in the coffin. A few seconds later, his body fully occupied the wooden coffin. He stared at the ceiling for a moment. He smiled bitterly.

...but not a master of fate.

He closed his eyes. The clock ticked. At that moment, he felt his conscience sink itself to the dark abyss, drowning his soul in the dark void... completely erasing his mind.

On that day, Lucas Aillard "died".

***

[.....]

[....Analyzing... Verifying...]

[Confirmed.]

[Genesis.... Destruction... Birth... Unbirth... 13th Iteration reset.]

[Commencing, The Great Restart.]