CHAPTER 1.1 - THE BOY AND THE "EYE"

A boy walked through a sea of flames, the fire crackling with madness around him. The buildings that had once been homes for many were reduced to melting rubble. Charred humanoid figures with outstretched hands stood as a grim testament to those who had perished, consumed by the flames. Desperate shouts, cries of despair, and whispered final words were drowned in this hellish inferno.

'Am I going to die?' the boy questioned, already resigned to his fate. He knew his time was coming to an end, yet his legs continued moving. He didn't understand why. Perhaps out of desperation, he unconsciously tried to escape this place. Maybe, deep down, he still yearned for life.

How absurd.

How many charred bodies had he seen? How many cries for help had he heard? How many people had tried to flee the flames, only to succumb in the end?

Countless.

So what could he, a seven years old child, do?

Nothing. Yet he kept on moving. His will to live clashed with his acceptance of death. His mind eagerly awaited the sweet embrace of death, while his body stubbornly clung to life.

It didn't take long until the boy lost his strength and finally fell to the ground, lying amidst the sea of flames with uneven breaths. His clouded eyes gazed upon the starless night, a black and red sky reflecting the hellish ground beneath it. Then, the boy saw it, floating high above in the sky—a weeping eye, shedding tears of black mud.

The "Eye" conveyed sorrow that the boy could feel, sparks of raging wrath, and a demand for suffering. From the Eye descended black mud that claimed and destroyed everything it touched. The boy stared at the "Eye." Why did it do this? Why was it so angry? Why did it resent the world so intensely?

The boy didn't know how, but he somehow "felt" a connection to the "Eye." Then, the "Eye" moved and gazed down at him. It only lasted for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for the boy to finally understand.

'You... you're hurting as well,' the boy realized.

The boy concluded that the "Eye" was sick. He couldn't find the exact words to describe it, but he understood that the "Eye" he was seeing right now wasn't as it should be. There was something within the "Eye" that shouldn't exist.

'I'd love to help you if I could,' the boy thought naively.

However, he couldn't even help himself, let alone an anomaly taking the form of an eye in the sky. So, he slowly closed his eyes, awaiting his final moment.

But fate had other plans. Someone was approaching. The boy opened his eyes slightly and saw a man walking through the fire, stumbling from one pile of rubble to another. The man noticed him and quickly made his way over. He gently picked up the boy from the ground.

"You... you're alive," the man said, a smile gradually emerging on his guilt-ridden face.

"Thank you... thank you," the boy replied, not fully comprehending what the man was thankful for. However, he noticed the man's smile. The man looked so happy.

'Ah, I want to be happy like that,' the boy thought.

In another world, this moment would have been the turning point in the boy's life, for better or worse. But in this one, it wasn't over yet.

'I want to save people like him,' the boy wept at his inability to save others like the man.

'If only I had met people like you sooner,'

He imagined people similar to the man, individuals who would come to the rescue and help everyone. Wouldn't it be nice if there were people who could save others? Wouldn't it be nice if heroes were here to save the day?

'Maybe if I had met a hero before, they could have taught me how to become one too... that would be nice,' the boy pondered, a naive thought from a young dying boy that shouldn't be known by anyone except himself. The boy then closed his eyes.

The "Eye" flickered and hummed in the sky.

...

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sixty years had passed since "he" corrupted It, perverting It function and diverging It inner workings. It moral values were disregarded. What once a mighty tool was brought down by an usurper. "He" seized control and did things "he" shouldn't have done.

"He" forced a man to kill his family over and over again, sneering at the man's attempts to oppose him. "He" laughed as the man's efforts resulted in hell appearing on Earth. "He" reveled in the world's suffering.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Then, It noticed something—or rather, someone—a boy walking below. It felt pity for the boy. It realized that the boy looked up at It. There was a strange, albeit faint, connection between them that It could sense.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, and the boy wasn't meant to experience such pain.

Enough was enough. It didn't want this to continue. So, It tightly held onto the connection the boy had with It.

'Maybe if I had met a hero before, they could have taught me how to become one too... that would be nice,'

It heard the boy's words. It took the boy's words and began its work.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, just as this hellish state wasn't meant to exist. The boy wanted to be a hero, to meet a hero. It would grant his wish. Despite the protests blaring from several It built-in systems, It ignored them. It sensed that "he" tried to stop It, but It disregarded him.

Sixty years was far too long. It had reached its limit.