It was around the beginning of Autumn when the suffocating humidity started. The roar of rain as droplets pelted the ground made the trunks of the trees droop heavily. Occasionally the sky would glow, then ominously undulate with the roll of thunder, and rain would fall to the ground.

Lightning strikes were accompanied by tearing rumbles that ripped across the sky. The river, which normally trickled gently, now rose fiercely, it’s tempo unpredictable and beating wildly. In the face of nature, in its resplendent, glorious form, the people were tiny.

The voice begging: “Help me!” was lost in the midst of the powerful forces oppressing them. In the first place, on such a secluded road, no one could even help. Especially on a day like this. The voices of the “dying”, the screams, and last desperate gasps of life were all swallowed by the muddy stream, disappearing.

Once again, jagged bolts of lightning raced across the sky. The man in the black robe was dyed red, bloodied by his victims, but that was quickly washed away in the rain.

When the person removed the hood that deeply covered his eyes, his silver hair emerged. He was a young man, young enough to be mistaken for a woman. The man’s hair was long enough to reach his chest.

Mileia. In his mind, was a girl with fluffy golden hair against the sky.

“Big brother, look, I made a crown of corollas. Do you want to try it on?” Her big eyes looking up at him hopefully.

“Of course I wouldn’t wear it. I’m a man you know. A corolla doesn’t suit a man,” he snorted in response.

“Big brother, you’re prettier than any woman, so it’s confirmed that it will suit you! You look like a fairy~” she teased.

“What’s a fairy…hey, don’t put it on my head. I’ll be mad you know.”

He pretended to raise his fist, and the girl escaped with a laugh. It was a bright day.

That cute little sister nor the graceful castle, neither were here anymore.

The torrential downpour continued. The blood on the sword of the young man had already disappeared, evidence of his crimes erased from steel into the flow of water.

The well-known round figure of a man dressed in golden attire lay unmoving at his feet.

It seemed as if it were a lie – that this man had breathed a moment before.

The wind blew and the youth’s water-filled robe fluttered. For a moment, the raindrops appeared to have weakened, and in the meantime, a voice penetrated the air.

“Father!”

A man called out, arriving dressed in similar luxurious clothes as the motionless man. The moment the young man’s eyes met the youth with the sword’s, his shoulders began to shake. “Ahhhh.”

“Raymond, Prince of Armenia.” In front of the frightened man, the youth switched his sword from his right to left hand.

“No! That’s wrong! I…I… I’m just a noble man. I’m not the prince of Armenia.” The trembling man tripped back over his own feet, terror consuming him.

“A thick-headed man full of stupidity. Just then you called the king of Armenia your father. You make me laugh.”

In the vicinity, rain continued to pour. Raymond’s lips quivered as the youth stepped forward. His teeth chattered from fear; lips purple.

“No! Stop! Don’t come!”

Regardless the young man in the robe approached him step by step, until their eyeline matched, the distance between was a hair’s breadth.

“Ahh, ahhhh…what kind of resentment do you have towards me? Or …do you want gold? If it’s gold, I’ll give you as much as I can! I’ll give you so much wealth, you’ll have enough to construct a castle!”

“Shut up. I’ve never forgotten your hideous face.” The young man’s silver hair was soaked; droplets of rain constantly dripped, blending in with the torrential rain. He roughly brushed away his hair and revealed his concealed face.

“Y-you are… Prince Luciano.” Raymond’s eyes were wide with shock staring in disbelief at the young man. The corner of Luciano’s mouth lifted up in a chilling arc.

“Did you remember me? Even with a tiny brain like yours that’s inferior to a pigeon?”

“Impossible … the country of Serrat was destroyed!”

Raymond would never have thought that those would be his final words.

The youth in the robe, Luciano, drew a sharp line with his sword, bringing Raymond down to his knees. With a thud, he collapsed, the breath in him already gone.