Dancing on the golden ashes

We landed on the desolate ground, and the silence hit me like a physical force. I could instantly tell how lonely this world was. Not a single insect, no rustling of leaves, no whisper of life. The emptiness stretched out before me, suffocating, almost as if the land itself had forgotten what it meant to exist.

I scanned the horizon, my gaze sweeping over the barren landscape. There were no signs of life, no movement, not even a flicker of hope in the distance. Perhaps this world had once been something different—a paradise of lush greenery, a place of life and beauty that surpassed anything anyone had ever seen. A world full of color, teeming with vibrant creatures and untold wonders.

But now, it was hard to say. The once-thriving land had been reduced to nothing more than a memory, a shadow of its former self. The earth beneath my feet was cracked, dry, and scarred, as if it had borne the weight of countless wars, and now, it bore only silence. The sky, too, seemed heavy with the burden of loss, its crimson hue lingering like a stain, a reminder of the world's death.

"This place reeks of death and destruction, why are we here?" Seong-hoon moved closer to me again, his footsteps hesitant, though this time, he kept his hands where they should be—at his sides, as if respecting the space I had created between us.

I didn't answer immediately. I stood there, overlooking the crimson world that stretched before us, a landscape of desolation that seemed to stretch endlessly. The air was thick with the scent of rot, the very essence of ruin. The world felt hollow, like a forgotten corpse left to decay under the weight of time.

Why am I here? I thought, the question lingering in my mind like a ghost. Perhaps I made a mistake, perhaps I had followed a path too far to turn back. Yet, the more I stood in this barren world, the more I felt it—it would hold secrets, and those secrets would be the key. This place would reveal the truth.

That person's plan, the one who dares to call himself the creator, will soon be revealed to me. He had no idea what was coming for him. His schemes, his manipulations, would crumble in the face of the true power that now flowed through me.

"I'm not sure," I replied, my voice flat, the weight of my own uncertainty barely registering in my words. "This is where destiny led us. At least for now." I paused, my eyes scanning the barren horizon, searching for something, anything, to give me direction. "I want to make this place our home. Perhaps in the future, we can make this world thrive again. And who knows... maybe there's still life somewhere out here."

It was a guess, a hope thrown into the void. But I had to bet on something. The weight of those around me, those who looked to me for answers, for guidance—it was all on me again. Once again, people depended on me, their eyes searching for reassurance, for the certainty that I no longer felt within myself. They could still feel it, that glimmer of hope, but I... I was lost in this path.

I felt no connection to the world. No joy in its possibilities. I was simply walking forward, driven by something I couldn't name. The path ahead was as uncertain as the ground beneath my feet, and yet, I knew I had to keep moving. For them. For whatever reason I couldn't even begin to understand anymore. But the truth was there—I was lost in this journey.

"Let's move for now," I said, my voice flat as I surveyed the desolate land ahead. "We should not separate since we don't know too much about how this place works." I could feel their presence behind me, the weight of their silence and obedience pressing in. I could tell they understood the unspoken rule—the safety in staying together, even in a place so unfamiliar, so empty.

Jieun appeared at my side, stepping lightly, her eyes flickering with a strange emotion, like she had caught sight of something distant—a memory, perhaps, long buried beneath the surface. Her gaze lingered for a moment, unfocused, before she spoke.

"Can I suggest heading east?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft, almost hesitant. "I know it's sudden, but I have a weird feeling in my chest. It's hard to explain."

I could feel a shift in the air as she spoke. The words hung between us, and a small knot of doubt twisted in my stomach. She was hiding something from me—I knew it. There was a hesitation, something she wasn't saying, something buried beneath her words. But I couldn't place it. Not yet.

Still, I didn't push her. After all, I trusted her—more than anything else in this world, maybe even more than I trusted myself. That much, I knew for certain.

"Sure," I replied indifferently, keeping my tone as emotionless as ever. "Follow me, and spread slightly to see if you can find something interesting here. After all, this is a new adventure, so embrace it, and feel free to have fun."

It wasn't much of an order, but they understood. I wasn't sure if I meant it. Fun? I couldn't bring myself to feel that. Not in this place, not after everything. But that didn't matter.

As long as they were happy, I should be too, right?

It was a strange thought, one I didn't quite know how to process. But I pushed it away, as I always did, and walked forward, knowing they would follow.

Soon, we took to the sky, leaving the desolate ground behind us. My wings spread wide, carrying me higher and higher, the wind rushing against me. But something felt off. There was a resistance in the air, an invisible weight pressing down on us. For some reason, it felt as if this world itself was fighting against flight. The pressure here was different—heavier, somehow. It was like the air itself was thicker, more resistant to movement, as if the very atmosphere was pushing back.

It reminded me of Earth, but even more so of the World of No End, though that had its own unique challenges. Perhaps the gravity there was stronger, but it had been imperceptible, masked by the enhancements we had received over time. But here? Here, the gravity felt at least twenty times stronger. I could feel it in my wings, in the way my body strained against the pressure. It wasn't unbearable, but it was noticeable.

I glanced over at my demons, my family, and saw the same struggle in their eyes. They too were having difficulty staying afloat, their movements sluggish, their wings beating harder, trying to push through the weight of this new world.

A sudden, sharp thought crossed my mind, and I made my decision swiftly. I would have to land. We can't keep flying like this. Not until we adjust.

I descended slowly, my cream color wings folding tightly against my back as I touched the ground once more. The others followed, the air thick with the unspoken understanding that this wasn't just a temporary stop—it was a necessity. Even if it took us ages, we would have to walk for now. We had to accommodate to the surroundings before we could act freely again. The land would shape us as much as we would shape it.

There was no rush, no immediate danger pushing us forward. No one was holding back the stronger because they were weaker. We weren't racing against time—we were a family, and we had each other's backs.

This was our new home, and for once, we would take our time.