November 12th, 2032
This is the first time in my life I've ever written a diary—and most likely, it will be the last thing I ever write.
It's been two years since mana appeared in our world.
The war, once thought to be endless, raging without reason or resolution, has finally ended. The reason? Them.
Their intervention turned the tides, and today… today marks the beginning of my departure from Earth—to fulfill a promise I made to them.
Truth be told, I didn't need to keep that promise now. The conditions hadn't been met. The clock hadn't run out. But if I delayed any further, the resulting battle would engulf the Milky Way in devastation. A single misstep, a single misplaced blow, could collapse an entire solar system.
And so, I leave now.
This isn't just a promise kept—this is a goal I've chased for years. Now that the path lies open before me, I couldn't bring myself to retreat. Not when it's within my grasp.
There's a high chance I won't return. Death, in all its eternal silence, waits on the other side. But I've always been a man of my word. I've never broken a promise. Not to others. Not to myself.
It's been a long time since I felt anything. Joy, fear, regret—emotions faded from me long ago, like echoes in a canyon swallowed by time. I don't even feel the excitement I used to crave when striving toward a new goal. I've become numb, and yet, I press on.
Even if I die, the companions who've stood beside me from the beginning—the ones who trust me implicitly—they'll carry on. They'll fight in my place if they have to. Even if they're weaker, they'll endure. They always do.
When this is over, humanity will no longer need to cower underground or cling to bunkers for safety. They can finally step into the light again. They'll live freely. Peacefully. That, above all else, is what I desire for them.
Normally, I wouldn't have cared. Let the weak perish—those were my thoughts once. But I made a promise long ago, one I etched deep into my very soul: I will never allow innocent people to die for my ambitions.
Did I foresee this future? Did I sense that one day, I'd lose the humanity that anchored me to morality? Or was it just weakness—the inability to accept blood on my hands?
I don't remember.
And I don't know why I'm even writing this.
Maybe it's for my friends, so they won't blame themselves if I fall. Maybe I just wanted to leave behind a piece of myself—one final message.
Or maybe… it's because today, I turn 27.
Ten years ago, I told myself that 27 would be the age I could finally die—once all my ambitions were complete.
And I've completed them.
—Vincent Frost
✦✦✦
"Haaah… Haaah… Haaah…"
Far, far from Earth—trillions of light-years away, beyond galaxies, beyond time and space—a lone man floated in the void of the cosmos, gasping for breath.
His body was barely intact.
Around him, billions of corpses drifted silently, their remains suspended in zero gravity. Shattered weapons, burnt limbs, and rivers of divine blood colored the endless blackness of space. The carnage stretched across light-years.
Beyond the field of ruin, millions of other beings hovered—exhausted, wounded, terrified. Their divine robes were torn, their radiant auras flickering like dying stars. These were no ordinary beings.
They were Gods.
And yet, they were trembling before one man.
"Impossible…!" one of them choked out. "How could a single being kill so many of us?!"
"He's more dangerous than that one… How could Aegnor be so foolish to provoke this monster?"
"And he's still standing… He hasn't even gone all out yet! We must end this, now—before he becomes a catastrophe."
Fear rippled through the divine ranks like wildfire.
These beings—gods whose very names inspired worship and war, whose mere presence bent the rules of reality—were terrified. Not of a demon. Not of a primordial entity. But of a mortal man.
A voice cut through their panic.
"So… you finally see it."
The man's voice was calm. Cold. Devoid of all emotion. Yet, each word struck like thunder.
He floated upright, broken armor hanging off his bloodied frame. His long, jet-black hair swayed behind him like a banner. His silver eyes—dull and lifeless—swept across the divine assembly without interest.
"To think it took this many of you to die before you realized who the real threat was," he said. "You Gods really are dumb."
None of them dared respond. None could deny it.
He had slaughtered billions of divine entities. Entire pantheons lay shattered in his wake. Even now, the survivors struggled to breathe, their divine power faltering in his presence.
One of the Gods snarled, clenching his staff.
"This was all a game to you? You're on the brink of death! Stop bluffing! You're finished!"
The man didn't flinch.
"You've forgotten something," he said.
"I told you… I would prove I was stronger than him. That I was more dangerous than any of your so-called deities. And to prove that, I've been holding back."
The words echoed across the ruined battlefield.
A terrible silence followed.
The same God who had mocked him moments earlier froze. Something clicked in his mind.
His skin paled.
"Y-You… You weren't fighting seriously?!"
The man slowly clenched his fists. Space itself warped around him as his suppressed energy began to awaken.
"I said I'd show you," he whispered.
"And now that you've acknowledged me… this game is over."
"I will now attack you... with the intent to kill."
The surviving gods felt it.
Their instincts screamed at them to flee.
But it was already too late.
A low hum filled the void as radiant, blood-colored light burst from the man's core. His body ignited with power—pure, refined, absolute. The space around him shattered like glass.
The God who had realized the truth earlier whispered in horror.
"…We're all going to die."
The man's emotionless voice was the last thing they heard.
"Let's see which of you is lucky enough to survive."
And then—
BOOOOM!
A star-like explosion engulfed the battlefield.