Confliction

**Flashback ended.**

The scene shifts back to **Zadkiel** sitting in a cold, dimly lit dungeon, his wrists chained to the stone walls. His eyes, once filled with indifferent coldness, now appeared lost in memory as his sister, **Eve**, stood before him. Her expression was a mixture of sadness and confusion, her once vibrant spirit dimmed by the revelation of who her brother had become.

**Eve**: *"How could it come to this, Zadkiel? How did you become the person you are now?"*

Her voice cracked with emotion as she struggled to comprehend the path her brother had walked for so many millennia.

**Zadkiel** remained quiet for a moment, his face as unreadable as ever. The dim torchlight flickered across his sharp features as he slowly lifted his gaze toward her, his voice steady and cold as he began to recount his past.

**Zadkiel**: *"After that night—the night you saw—he called for me again... the master."*

His voice carried the weight of countless years and regrets as he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as the memories resurfaced.

**Zadkiel**: *"He gave me orders... to claim the title of Shadow Lord. The previous holder of the title was nothing more than an obstacle, and I was tasked to eliminate him. I killed him without hesitation and took the title. But the title of 'Shadow Lord' didn't feel fitting for what I had become."*

A faint, dark smirk played on his lips for a second before fading.

**Zadkiel**: *"So I changed it—made it my own. I became the 'Shadow Emperor.' From there, I did everything that was asked of me. The rest... you already know."*

His tone was devoid of emotion, as if the atrocities he had committed were nothing more than mere tasks to him. **Eve**'s expression darkened, her fists clenching by her sides as she tried to keep her composure. She had always held onto a glimmer of hope that her brother could be saved, but the man before her felt like a stranger.

**Eve**: *"But who is he? This 'master' of the Star Council?"*

Her voice carried a sense of urgency, a desire to understand the source of all this suffering. She stepped closer, her eyes searching Zadkiel's face for answers.

But **Zadkiel** simply turned his head away, his expression hardening.

**Zadkiel**: *"I can't... and I won't tell you."*

The refusal was absolute, unyielding. He would not speak the name, either because he was unable to or because he chose not to. Whatever the case, the conversation was over.

The dungeon fell into silence, the air thick with tension and unresolved questions as **Eve** stared at her brother, knowing she would get no further answers today.

**Eve**'s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

**Eve**: *"Your execution is tomorrow... and I will be your executioner."*

Her words hung in the air, heavy with both duty and sorrow. She stared down at **Zadkiel**, her brother who had become a symbol of everything she despised. Yet, even now, there was a hint of hesitation in her eyes, a flicker of the bond they once shared.

**Zadkiel**'s cold demeanor didn't waver. He remained chained to the wall, his face unreadable as he processed her words. His expression was indifferent, almost as though death was nothing more than an inevitable inconvenience.

**Zadkiel**: *"So, it's come to this."*

There was no fear in his voice. No regret. Just a simple acknowledgment of his fate.

**Eve** stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to maintain her composure. Her heart ached, torn between duty to the world and the remnants of her love for her brother.

**Eve**: *"I wish it didn't have to be this way, but you leave me no choice."*

Zadkiel finally turned his gaze back to her, his eyes cold, but deep within them was a faint flicker of something—a shadow of the man he once was.

**Zadkiel**: *"You're doing what you think is right. I don't blame you."*

The statement was as emotionless as ever, but perhaps there was a hidden layer of understanding. He knew this path he had walked for thousands of years had only one destination, and now, he was facing it.

**Eve** struggled to hold back her tears, knowing the weight of what tomorrow would bring. Despite everything, she still saw glimpses of the brother she once loved, but they were buried deep beneath the shadow of what he had become.

**Eve**: *"Tomorrow, then..."*

She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, **Zadkiel** spoke again, his voice low and almost detached.

**Zadkiel**: *"Do it quickly, Eve. When the time comes."*

For a moment, her back stiffened at his words, the finality of it all crashing down on her. Without turning back, she nodded silently and walked away, leaving her brother alone in the cold darkness of the dungeon.

As **Adam** watched **Eve** walk off into the distance, his mind was a storm of thoughts, his expression unreadable. The conversation between **Zadkiel** and **Eve** had stirred something within him, but it wasn't new. These thoughts had plagued him for centuries, and once again, they returned like old ghosts.

**Adam**: *"Day in and day out, the same news on permanent repeat... This is all so ridiculous."*

The words slipped from his lips almost unconsciously. They were the same thoughts he'd had since he was a child, the same bitter realization that had shaped him into who he was now.

In his mind, he saw his younger self—small, fragile, but with the same piercing gaze—staring out at the world with the same disillusionment. It was a memory burned into his soul, one that seemed to resurface whenever he felt this familiar sense of detachment from the world around him.

**Adam**: *"Once you actually start looking around, it makes you wonder if you're doing society a favor by eradicating everyone."*

His younger self had said those exact words, and even now, **Adam** could feel the weight of them. It was a dark, twisted logic, but one he couldn't help but agree with. The world had never changed. No matter how many wars were fought, how many people were sacrificed, the cycle of violence, betrayal, and destruction continued. To him, it felt like a cosmic joke—a farce played out on the grandest of stages.

His thoughts shifted, and he found himself staring blankly at the horizon, the same way he had done as a child, questioning everything.

**Adam**: *"We all pretend to be the heroes on the good side, but what if we are the villains on the other?"*

The words lingered in the air for a moment, and then he shook his head. There was no point in thinking about it now. Nothing he could do would change the reality of the world, not unless he wiped the slate clean entirely. But even then, what would rise from the ashes?

With a sigh, **Adam** pushed those thoughts aside and stealthily slipped away from the roof, his presence still hidden from those around him. He made his way back to the camp, his footsteps silent, his mind still heavy with conflicting thoughts.

As he reached the camp, the familiar sights of his temporary home greeted him—tents and campfires flickering in the distance. The soldiers, mercenaries, and others in his service were scattered about, some laughing, some sharpening their weapons, but none of it mattered to **Adam**. He needed sleep, or at least a moment of peace to clear his head.

He found his tent and entered, the heavy flap falling closed behind him. The world outside felt distant, like a bad dream that refused to end. As he lay down on the simple cot, he closed his eyes, but the thoughts wouldn't stop swirling in his mind.

**Adam**: *"Maybe... just maybe, the world deserves to be wiped clean."*

With that final dark thought, he drifted into a restless sleep.

The sun had barely risen when the crowd began to gather for the execution of **Zadkiel**, the once-feared **Shadow Emperor**. His capture had sent ripples across all worlds, and now, those who had fought against his tyranny, alongside those who had merely heard of his legend, had gathered to witness the final chapter of his reign.

**Zadkiel** stood in the center of the massive arena, bound in chains. He remained calm and stoic, his cold, emotionless demeanor unshaken by the spectacle around him. His dark eyes scanned the faces in the crowd—some were familiar, others were not. But none of them mattered to him anymore. His fate was sealed, and even now, he cared little for what was to come.

Standing at the forefront of the gathering were the leaders of various factions. **The Frontier** stood strong and silent, their presence a testament to their defiance of evil. Among them was **Ty**, her golden eyes reflecting the resolve of someone who had stared death in the face and survived. **Commander Cooper**, **Kane**, and **Lieutenant Lastimosa** were there too, their expressions hard and unwavering.

**Alexander**, battle-worn but resolute, stood nearby, his eyes locked on **Zadkiel**. He had fought alongside many of those gathered here, and today would be the culmination of a long and bloody struggle.

**Dr. Jin**, the scientist and healer, stood with a mixture of tension and determination on his face. Beside him, **Adam** lurked in the background, his mind still conflicted after the previous night's reflections. He watched the events unfold with a quiet intensity, not betraying any of the dark thoughts swirling within him.

On the other side of the arena stood **Seraphina**, her blonde hair catching the morning light, her red eyes focused on the man who had once claimed to be invincible. Next to her, the **Cloud Knights**, with **Xiao Ling** at their lead, observed in silence. The young general had seen enough bloodshed to know that this was but another step in the endless cycle of war.

The **Celestial Army**, led by **Elysia** and **Seraphie**, stood in solemn formation. Their golden armor gleamed in the sunlight, a contrast to the dark aura of the one they had come to witness fall. **Elysia**'s gaze was steady, while **Seraphie** kept a sharp watch, her presence radiating authority.

As the crowd murmured and shifted, **Eve**, clad in ceremonial executioner's garb, stepped forward. She was to be her brother's executioner, and though her heart was heavy with the burden, her face showed no sign of hesitation. She had made her decision, and the world was watching.

The moment was at hand. **Eve** raised her hand, and silence fell over the crowd. The air was thick with anticipation as she unsheathed the gleaming sword meant to deliver the final blow. The blade reflected the light, a sharp contrast to the darkness that had surrounded **Zadkiel** for millennia.

Stepping up to her brother, **Eve** spoke softly, so only he could hear.

**Eve**: "This is the end, Zadkiel. May you find peace in the next life."

**Zadkiel** remained silent, his face still cold and emotionless. He did not beg for mercy, nor did he curse those who had gathered. Instead, he simply looked ahead, as if already resigned to his fate.

As **Eve** lifted the sword high, ready to deliver the final strike, a sudden tension filled the air, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

In the crowd, **Adam** watched with narrowed eyes. His mind raced with questions—could this truly be the end? Would **Zadkiel** finally fall, or was there more to come?

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, the weight of history bearing down on all those present.