Free Web NovelLillian's ears were buzzing.
At first, she couldn't hear anything.
There was only that buzzing, like ten thousand bees flying inside her head.
Then, sound slowly returned.
Bit by bit.
As if someone were slowly turning up the volume.
She heard explosions.
One, two, three.
Coming from the distance.
Coming from all directions.
Rising and falling one after another.
As if someone were setting off fireworks.
Or as if someone were beating a drum.
Beat after beat.
Beat after beat.
She turned her head to the side.
The movement was difficult.
Her neck felt as if it had rusted.
Every movement hurt like hell.
But she still managed to turn it.
She saw the house.
The house she had just run out of.
It was no longer there.
It had vanished.
Only a pile of burning ruins remained.
Flames leaped from the broken walls like a pack of hungry beasts, greedily devouring everything.
Black smoke billowed, blotting out the sky and the sun.
The crackling sound of burning wood.
The rumbling sound of masonry collapsing.
There were other sounds too.
She couldn't distinguish what they were for a moment.
She continued to look.
The houses on both sides of the street were also burning.
Every single one was on fire.
Someone ran out of a burning house.
Carrying flames on their body.
Like a walking torch.
That person was rolling on the ground, screaming, crying out.
But the flames would not go out.
The flames would never go out.
Another person was pinned beneath a collapsed beam.
Only half their body was visible.
Hands were waving in the air.
Clutching at something.
Clutching at nothing.
Then, the flames spread over them.
Children were crying.
Women were screaming.
Men were cursing.
Lillian lay on the ground, watching all of this.
Her eyes were so dry they ached, but she could no longer shed tears.
Her tears had already run dry just now.
Or perhaps they had been evaporated by this hellish heat.
Hell.
This must be hell.
The hell the adults talked about.
The place bad people go after they die.
But why had she come to hell?
Had she done something wrong?
Had she hurt someone?
Had she lied?
In the sea of fire, there was a figure.
Lillian blinked her eyes hard.
She thought she had seen wrong.
Maybe it was a hallucination caused by the smoke.
Maybe it was delirium from her injuries.
But that figure was getting closer.
Becoming clearer.
A man.
Tall and thin.
Hunched.
Wearing a black coat.
The coat was burned to tatters, its edges still sparking with embers.
But he didn't seem to care at all.
He just /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ walked.
Step by step.
Walking out from the center of the sea of fire.
The flames licked at his side.
But they did not harm him.
They were like—
Like they were avoiding him.
Like they were making way for him.
Like they were... bowing in submission to him.
He walked out of the sea of fire.
Standing amidst the ruins.
The orange-red firelight shone on his face, making his features shift between light and shadow.
A thin, gaunt face.
High, protruding cheekbones.
Very thin lips.
Eyes.
Lillian saw those eyes.
They were a kind of—
Void.
A pure, bottomless, suffocating void.
Like two windows leading to an abyss.
As if behind those eyes, there was no soul at all.
Only crimson destruction, pure destruction. ƒreewebɳovel.com
The man's gaze swept over the ruins, over the flames, over the corpses lying on the ground and the living who were still struggling.
Then, his gaze fell upon Lillian.
He tilted his head.
Like a beast that had discovered prey.
Or like a child who had discovered an interesting bug.
He smiled.
The corners of his mouth pulled back to the sides, revealing a row of teeth.
Lillian wanted to run.
She desperately tried to make her legs move.
Run.
Run now.
No matter where she ran, just leave this place first!
But she couldn't move.
Her body felt as if it were nailed to the ground.
Her limbs completely refused to obey her.
Was she injured by the blast? Frozen by fear?
She didn't know.
She only knew she couldn't move.
Not even a little bit.
The man raised his hand.
The movement was very slow.
Very elegant.
Like he was conducting an orchestra.
The surrounding flames moved.
As if receiving a summons, they began to converge toward his palm.
Orange-red, scorching, twisting flames surged from all directions, condensing into a sphere in his palm.
Growing larger.
Growing brighter.
Growing more white-hot.
A sizzling sound filled the air, as if something were burning, evaporating.
Lillian looked at that fireball.
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
It was also the most terrifying thing she had ever seen.
It was like a small sun.
Hovering in the man's palm.
Radiating scorching heat.
Illuminating his twisted, hideous face.
"What a pity."
The man spoke.
His voice was hoarse, carrying an uncomfortable vibrato.
"Such a young child."
He looked at Lillian, his eyes devoid of even a shred of pity.
"If you had been born a few years earlier, perhaps you could have seen an era of peace."
"If you had been born a few years later, perhaps you could have seen the reconstruction of the ruins."
"But you just had to be born now."
He held up the fireball as if admiring a work of art.
"Born in this era of destruction."
He began to laugh loudly.
The laughter was sharp and piercing, like the sound of rusted iron rubbing together.
Then, the fireball flew toward Lillian.
She watched that ball of fire.
It traced an orange-red arc in the air.
Getting closer.
Getting larger.
Getting brighter.
She could feel the heat wave hitting her face.
She could smell the scent of her hair beginning to scorch.
She could—
Suddenly, something blocked her path.
It was also a figure.
Rushing in from the side.
He split open the sea of fire, fast as a bolt of lightning.
Then.
A pair of arms scooped her up from the ground.
Strong, warm arms that smelled of sweat.
A body stood between her and the fireball.
A broad, solid body that blocked out all the firelight.
"Boom—!"
The fireball exploded on that person's back.
A scorching blast of air hit her face.
Flames burst apart all around them.
Something was burning—clothes, hair, or something else.
The air was thick with the smell of charring.
But she wasn't burned.
That person protected her fiercely.
Arms encircling her.
Body curled.
Like an insurmountable high wall.
Lillian's face was pressed against the person's chest.
She could feel his heartbeat.
Very fast.
Very forceful.
As if it were about to jump out of his chest.
She could smell the scent on him.
Sweat.
Dust.
And—
The smell of charring.
Lillian's tears finally flowed out.
She struggled to look up.
She saw a young face.
Deep red short hair, so short it was almost flush with the scalp.
A large, twisted scar covered the right half of his face, extending from the temple down to the neck; the skin was shriveled and warped, showing a texture of interwoven dark red and pale white.
His left eye was golden, shining brightly in the firelight like flowing gold.
Like a meteor ignited by flames.
