He was dead. I buried him myself. That’s what I thought—until he appeared at my house, committing a fatal mistake. And it wasn’t only him. I believed I had learned all the shades of rage, but I was wrong. The anger of a mother who has lost her child is something the world hasn’t known yet. What will she have to sacrifice to save her? Her life? Love? An entire universe?
I was sure I knew the answer, but at the last moment I remembered I can’t stand weakness. I will demand payment from those who think they’re gods. Their names will be forgotten, and their ashes scattered to the wind. Time has come for the decisive battle with myself and with the whole world. From the ashes, a shoot of hope can always grow. Hope for the future — for us and for the entire world. The end.