Night is the color of blood.
As the wind pours into the ears, it is death accompanied by mournful sounds.
Is this all we can do?
The mission he carried, along with this fate, vanished into nothing.
Is that all?
If the God of Creation still hears my prayers, I would like to say one more thing.
Sorry, I don't want to.
The voice suppressed in my heart.
When my consciousness was about to die, the soft purple light in the sky surrounded me. Will I just turn into little purple foam and disappear into ashes?
Until that moment...