『Tet's POV』
"Mortals are fascinating creatures, aren't they?"
The board lay before me—still and silent. Its pieces, scattered and frozen in their final positions, told a story more profound than any victory. My fingers hovered over a black pawn—a human, of course. This one stood apart. Its role was complete, its presence erased from the game. And yet, the echoes of its move resonated louder than the chaos it left behind.
"Riku… you're quite the strategist," I murmured, leaning in. "Cold. Calculating. Willing to shoulder what others wouldn't dare. But I wonder… how much of yourself did you leave behind with Ivan's sacrifice?"
The ashen wasteland stretched across the horizon—still, desolate. The hum of Dwarven machinery, once relentless, had fallen silent. Now, only the whispers of the dying wind remained. And yet, amidst it all, Ivan's final words—"Take care of my daughter, Riku."—lingered, haunting the void like a melody meant only for me.
I shifted my gaze to the toppled pawn. "That's the price, isn't it? To carry the weight of a choice no one else could make. A single move to ensure survival… but at what cost?"
This wasn't a game. Not for them. Not yet.
"Why does this bother me?" I muttered, the words unfamiliar on my tongue. "Sacrifice is logical. Necessary. Ivan understood that. So did Riku. One piece removed to protect the whole—it's the oldest rule on the board."
And yet… this was different. The ache I felt wasn't born of strategy. It wasn't born of logic. It was something else. Something beyond the mechanics of the game.
"If I'm to be a god of this world, what should I be?" I asked the stillness. "An observer, letting them stumble and rise on their own? A playful guide, testing their limits? Or… something else entirely?"
The void answered with silence.
"I wonder, Riku," I whispered, setting the black pawn upright again, "if you knew I was watching—would you hesitate? Or would you still make the same choice, knowing it was the only way?"
The board shimmered as I reset the pieces with a flick of my hand.
The game was far from over.
The next move belonged to them.
But as the dust settled over their world, I couldn't shake the question echoing in my mind. Perhaps, if I stayed long enough to see their final move… I might finally understand what it means to be a god.
「Third POV」『Riku』
They say there used to be something called the Sun.
Its white flames lit the heavens and turned the skies the most brilliant blue you've ever seen.
And then… there's an old story, like something out of a fairy tale.
The gods and their creations waged eternal war. The Earth burned, choking the heavens with soot and raining down the ashes of the dead.
Riku pulled back his hood, his lavender eyes reflecting the dim, eerie light of the Red Moon. The air was sharp—each breath cut like shards of broken promises. He stood still, letting the ash burn his skin. A quiet tribute to the dead.
"Riku! What are you doing?" Aley's voice cut through the stillness, hurried and sharp. He rushed over, yanking the hood back over Riku's head. "Do you want to burn yourself alive?"
Riku didn't answer immediately. Then, softly:
His gaze remained fixed on the wasteland before them. These ashes… they weren't just remnants of destruction. They were the weight of choices. The price of survival.
"This is the least we can do," Riku said. "To honor them, I guess."
They walked in silence toward the settlement. Aley cast glances at him—nervous, uncertain—but said nothing more. Words didn't matter here. Not when the ground beneath their boots told a story that no language could capture.
Their path led through a narrow cave mouth. Three torches rested at the entrance, their crystal tips designed to ignite when dipped in water. Riku and Aley each took one, hands steady despite the ache of exhaustion.
They dipped the torches into the pool just inside the cave's threshold. With a faint hum, the crystals flared to life—casting soft, flickering light into the darkness ahead. A fragile defiance against the weight of the world.
Inside, the cavern stretched wide, its walls veined with crystals that shimmered blue and orange. Light danced across the jagged surfaces, casting fleeting reflections—fragments of beauty in a world otherwise void of it.
But even here, amidst the glow, Riku's thoughts wandered.
Was it worth it? The sacrifices, the pain, the lives left behind—all for a chance. A narrow, fragile chance.
How many more pieces would he have to remove from the board before the game was over?
His grip on the torch tightened. The light trembled in his hands.
The settlement's cavern walls swallowed their torchlight as Riku and Aley stepped into the flickering warmth of home.
"Riku!" a woman cried, crystal-blue eyes wide with tears as she threw her arms around him. "Oh… oh, thank goodness—you made it. Riku, thank goodness."
"Corone," Riku answered softly, the name barely escaping through his mask of composure. She pulled back a step and—just like that—her grief was gone, replaced by practiced bravado.
"Well, you took your sweet time! Were you trying to give me a heart attack? And how many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Big Sis' already?" She leaned forward, hands on hips, voice tumbling fast in nervous succession.
Riku offered no reply. Corone turned to Aley, her smile faltering when he couldn't meet her gaze. That silence told her everything.
Her arms slowly dropped to her sides.
"Ivan…?" she began.
"Ah—Riku!" she blurted suddenly, worry slipping into her voice.
A little girl ran toward them, violet-haired, waving a crumpled page. "Daddy~!"
"Riku! Aley!" Corone knelt and caught her. "Nonna—"
"I'm so glad they're back!" Nonna beamed, paper still clutched in her small hands. "Where's Daddy? I want to show him my letter! I wrote it myself!"
Corone's arms stiffened.
"Nonna, listen to me—" she started, but stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned.
Riku.
His eyes were distant. Hollow. He didn't have to speak—but he would. It was his responsibility.
"Riku?" she whispered, stepping aside.
He knelt, gently placing a hand on Nonna's shoulder. "Nonna."
She blinked up at him. The light in her eyes dimmed, her smile faltering. Still, she clutched the letter.
"Your daddy…" Riku said, barely audible. "Your daddy won't be coming home anymore."
"W-what? How come?" Her voice trembled.
Riku's expression didn't change.
"Because he's dead."
Nonna shook her head. Her little fist curled, and she struck Riku across the face. "You're lying!"
He didn't react.
"It's true, Nonna."
"No, it's not! Daddy promised! He said he'd come home! He said we'd win! He said when it was over, the humans would win!"
Riku's hand moved to his chest, pressing over his heart. "We will win," he said. "It's why your daddy fought so hard. He did it so the rest of us could."
"That's not winning anything!" she screamed. "It should've been you! You! You're the one who should've died!"
"Nonna! Nonna, please—" Corone pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as the child sobbed into her shoulder.
Riku rose, turning away.
"Why don't you two go wash up?" Corone said gently, though her eyes didn't leave the parchment still clutched in Nonna's hand. "You stink."
"I'll just dust myself off," Riku murmured.
"No," she said firmly. "Take a bath."
"So we—so we can win, huh?! I'm a goddamn hypocrite!" Riku yelled, throwing his satchel at a stack of parchments piled on his desk.
A wooden chess box tumbled to the floor, bursting open—scattering papers and chess pieces across the room.
Remnants of childhood collided with war notes.
"I made him throw his life away! I sent him to his death!" Riku roared, swiping at the wooden shelving. "I did it! It was me! I killed him! I sacrificed him just so I could live a little while longer!"
He struck the shelf again, punching one of the boards until it split under his knuckles. His fist bled, but he didn't stop to look.
"If this keeps going on… what's the point?" he whispered, leaning into the shattered shelf, tears streaking his face. His voice cracked as it rose again.
"How far are we willing to go? Do we kill half the people just to save the other half? How many is it going to take?! DO WE KEEP GOING UNTIL THERE'S ONLY ONE LEFT?!"
He screamed, unaware of Corone leaning silently against the door, her eyes downcast. Unaware of the Deus—barely present—patting softly at his back, trying to comfort him in vain.
"When are we going to be done with this?" Riku sobbed. "How long do we have to keep living like animals?!"