Choosing My Own Destiny
The girl didn’t appear particularly old. Her appearance was exactly as I had first perceived: she looked like a doll in every respect. Porcelain-pale skin, a small face that sat in silent expressionlessness, large eyes that contrasted sharply with the rest, bare feet, and hands without a single blemish. And yet she carried an undeniably surreal aura. It wasn’t just the fire she had summoned moments ago, or the way she had burned her enemies to ash with what could only be called magic. The very atmosphere around her felt distinctly inhuman.
Even more striking was her composure and attitude. She had reduced four human beings to cinders without a flicker of guilt, then greeted me as calmly as if we had met on a quiet street. Even though I could have brought my mace down on her skull at any moment, she never flinched. There were only two possibilities. Either she was certain my attack couldn’t kill her, or she genuinely didn’t care if it did. Both options were unsettling.
That tiny frame—at most a hundred and thirty centimeters—somehow possessed the power to withstand my strikes and unleash flames hot enough to cremate a human body in seconds. Or she might simply be a fanatic who felt nothing at the prospect of her own death. Neither thought was pleasant. If there was one small mercy, it was that she seemed preferable to the Church of Light, who would have slaughtered every other hibernating person besides me on the strength of a single prophecy.
…No. Perhaps not. The adventurers’ hostility toward the Church of Darkness had been sincere, even if its targets had now been burned away. I needed to remain cautious. Allies who worshiped an avatar meant to end the world and spread darkness across it were not necessarily a good thing.
The small girl who had introduced herself as Vertea continued to watch me, mace still extended between us. Her eyes held no readable emotion—except for a faint trace of goodwill directed my way.
“You’re calling me an avatar?” I asked.
Vertea gave a single nod. “Yes. You are the Apostle of Darkness, my lord.”
She stated it plainly, as simple fact. I felt a surge of resentment; I had no awareness of being any such thing. I didn’t even know exactly what the term meant. The only thing burned into my mind was the unfair accusation I had overheard.
A man will one day awaken inside the labyrinth and bring about the end of the world.
The being destined to destroy the world. That was what they had called me. My power might not reach that level, but after witnessing real magic I could hardly dismiss the claim outright. The remaining questions were what proof existed that I was this apostle, and what exactly an apostle was supposed to be.
“What is this Apostle of Darkness? That’s what they kept calling me.”
The problem was that I had no clear idea what the title actually signified. I understood “darkness” well enough—chaos, terror, and adversity given form. The religious organization that served it was the Church of Darkness. To any outside observer, they were obvious villains. And the avatar those villains revered? He was unlikely to be a good man. The notion itself was repulsive, yet it remained only a possibility. Misunderstandings, distortions, rewritten history—such things were common. Especially when history is always written by the victors.
It was the same as how I, once revered by my own country, had become a coward and a bloodthirsty slaughterer of the entire military after deserting. So the answer that came back to my question was less than satisfying.
“You, my lord, are the inevitable being who will end the current world and bring forth a world of darkness.”
I frowned. Vertea simply stared at me with those empty eyes.
“So I’m supposed to open an age of chaos, terror, and adversity?”
“Yes.”
“…Hah.”
A dry laugh escaped me. They were clearly the bad guys no matter how you looked at it. This wasn’t the first time I had encountered such moral murkiness. A world where good and evil blurred together until everyone might as well be evil. It felt the same as the moment I learned that the nation I had believed was righteous was itself monstrous.
Emptiness settled over me. Was this what waited even after I woke up?
I offered a hollow smile and adjusted my grip on the mace. That was when the emotionless fanatic spoke again.
“My lord.”
Vertea looked straight at me with that blank face.
“What do you think of darkness, my lord?”
“Chaos, terror, and adversity.”
“That is what you have been told. And in truth, it is not incorrect.”
When I frowned, wondering where she was going with this, the tiny girl placed a hand over her chest. Staring at me with those hollow black eyes, she continued in the same flat tone.
“However, that is merely the perception of the radical faction and of outsiders.”
She spoke as if simply stating objective facts. It sounded exactly like the words of a zealot, yet something about it rang true.
“There is no good or evil in darkness itself. Those of us in the moderate faction, this unit included, believe that chaos brings change, terror forges courage, and adversity yields both overcoming and harvest.”
Only in that sentence did her voice carry real conviction. I didn’t particularly like it, but the assertion that darkness held no inherent morality lingered in my mind.
“You said the radicals and outsiders. Does that mean you belong to the moderate faction?”
“Correct. This unit once belonged to the moderate faction.”
“Once?”
I forced my lowering mace back up. The small girl nodded.
“All moderate faction members except this unit were slaughtered by the Church of Light and by those within our own church who deserved to be called radicals.”
“…Is that so?”
I could have demanded proof. I could have suspected it was merely a recruitment tactic. But I couldn’t. The gaze she fixed on me held no hostility. Her faint heartbeat remained steady. She was neither lying nor agitated. Above all, I wanted to believe her. When I had finally summoned the courage to speak while alone, I hoped someone would choose trust over suspicion.
I slowly lowered the mace. The flickering flames around us gradually died away. The circumstances were different, but I knew too well what it felt like to be the only one left.
After a moment’s hesitation, I spoke.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ha Jinwoo.”
Names make hostility harder to maintain. I hoped the girl before me felt the same.
Intense activity naturally leaves one hungry. The greater the nutrients consumed, the more the body craves replenishment—especially after violent exercise on an empty stomach. If I had known there would be no welcoming ceremony before entering hibernation, I would have eaten something beforehand.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to wander the labyrinth searching for food while starving.
“This unit has prepared a meal to satisfy your hunger, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
“Some ingredients were taken from the labyrinth itself and from the belongings of the fools who dared oppose you, but every part was cooked by this unit with utmost sincerity.”
“I’ll enjoy it.”
The petite girl who called herself Vertea was an exceptionally skilled cook. She gathered sawdust into her palm, blew on it to ignite a flame, then wielded a blade thicker than her own forearm to slice ingredients with practiced ease. She flipped flatbread in a frying pan, cut meat into the perfect size—satisfying yet substantial—and grilled it to flawless doneness. The vegetables carried an aroma and flavor so rich it was hard to believe they had simply been roasted.
She looked young by appearance alone, but her manner suggested a very different actual age. Her small hands and frame still carried a subtly mature air. Especially certain curves of her body. If this was the future, she might be a descendant of modified humanity—a race whose bodies had been compressed for some unknown reason. Yet too many details contradicted the idea of a simple future Earth.
The prophecy, for one. I had seen the evidence with my own eyes; I could not dismiss the existence of apostles, darkness, or light as mere rumor. The fierce flames that operated in ways I had never encountered, the restraints of light, the magical force that had shoved my body—such things were real. Hard to believe, yet believing in their existence no longer seemed strange.
Then… how?
Several hypotheses rose in my mind. Most were absurd. They reminded me of the novels and comics I had once picked up and read. Ridiculous, but… at the moment they offered the simplest explanation for my situation.
“These are tea leaves cultivated by the elves of Gangbuk District.”
I sipped the strangely bitter yet addictive tea Vertea had poured, then wrapped meat and vegetables in the flatbread and took a bite. Gangbuk District. Elves. I wanted to object, but instead chewed in silence. Suddenly Vertea called out to me.
“My lord.”
“Yes?”
“Does it not worry you that this unit might have poisoned the food?”
I stopped chewing and stared at her. Her expression was unreadable. What kind of face was that?
“…Did you poison it?”
“This unit is your unwavering ally no matter what happens, and has not poisoned your meal.”
“Then why say something like that?”
She gave no answer. As I watched the girl sit with her hands neatly folded, I noticed her plate was already empty. I really couldn’t understand why she had asked. It seemed pointless to press her, so I changed the subject.
“…I’m basically immune to poison anyway. I’ve hardly ever worried about it.”
Super soldiers had been created with long-term operations and extreme-environment adaptation in mind. As one of the later models, I had received the most extensive improvements. I could cross radiation zones that would kill ordinary people even in protective suits, provided I took minimal precautions. No biochemical weapon could inflict a fatal wound on me. The thought that someone might have poisoned my food had almost never crossed my mind in my entire life. Before modification I might have worried about rat poison, but… between the first ten years and the following hundred and twenty, the latter carried far more weight.
So I cleaned my plate without leaving a drop of juice.
“By the way.”
Vertea was quietly sipping her tea, watching me attentively.
“Could you tell me more about the prophecy?”
Vertea tilted her head.
“Which part of the prophecy would you like to hear, my lord?”
“The prophecy itself. If it’s long, just the important parts.”
“It is not long. As far as this unit knows, the prophecy consists of two sentences.”
Only two sentences, yet they had driven people to kill. I suppressed a sigh. Vertea closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and recited:
“The one favored by darkness shall walk upon a fading world. Beneath his footsteps, the world shall shatter into pieces.”
The strangely theatrical tone made the words sound even more ominous. Even someone like me, who knew little of prophecies, felt a chill at the idea of the world shattering. It really did sound like the script for a villain.
“This is the version passed down within the moderate faction, as this unit was taught.”
Vertea seemed to have read my expression; her tone softened, as if to console me. I caught the faint emotion that surfaced on her face.
“There are multiple prophecies, I take it?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then this one is relatively neutral? Since it comes from the moderates.”
“…Affirmative.”
Even the neutral version made me sound like a villain. I could only imagine how much worse the prophecies favored by the Church of Light or the radical faction of the Church of Darkness must be. Considering how openly those radicals operated, my reputation among ordinary people had to be terrible. I didn’t even need to ask.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The thought came unbidden: perhaps their malice had merely been aimed in the wrong direction, but the malice itself had not been misplaced.
The soldier in me said: if their hostility is justified, then shouldn’t you devote yourself to your duty as the apostle? Fulfill your role so their hostility remains justified.
The man who simply wanted to survive said: why waste your precious life on such a prophecy? It isn’t your identity. You don’t even know if that role truly belongs to you. So ignore the prophecy. Ignore the girl in front of you and focus on living your own life. Wouldn’t it be foolish to throw away the second chance you’ve finally obtained? Leave the labyrinth, avoid the prophecy, and simply run.
I suppressed both voices and slowly opened my eyes. A sigh helped me gather my emotions. I could not allow myself to be swayed. I decided not to be moved by mere words or by the gaze fixed upon me. Time was too precious for that. Every single day of life was worth more than gold.
A prophecy was only a prophecy. It was not guaranteed to come true, nor was it destiny. Some might insist otherwise, but the words I had heard were vague. At least by the version I had been given. Even the title of Apostle of Darkness carried no guarantee that it referred to me. And even if it did, whether I acted according to the prophecy was entirely up to my own choices.
My fate belonged to me. I was the master of my own fate.
I would not run.
No matter how important the position of Apostle of Darkness might be, no matter how much weight it carried in this incomprehensible world, it would not define the core of my identity. That was what I chose to believe.
“The prophecy doesn’t matter.”
Vertea looked slightly dissatisfied that I had rejected her religious beliefs, but she remained silent.
“It doesn’t matter what people believe.”
I had always loved living. Eating good food, seeing beautiful things, and enjoying each day had always been enough. Even as a child, when others rummaged through trash bins with empty stomachs, I liked to explore abandoned buildings in the distance. I enjoyed imagining what might have happened there, picturing the people who once sat at those lonely office desks. In lightless underground spaces I felt excitement more than fear at what I might encounter. When I visited unfamiliar places, my heart raced with anticipation rather than anxiety.
So if there was room in my life for adventure, I would welcome it with open arms.
“I will see it with my own eyes. I will discover my own role for myself.”
My smartphone and shotgun were probably somewhere else. Considering that adventurers had visited my bunker and the place called the Holy Ground of Darkness, they must be somewhere inside this labyrinth. I wanted to find them. I wanted to explore the ruins of my homeland that now lay before me. I wanted to become an adventurer who delved into the unknown lurking within the dark.
“Vertea, could you tell me more about the labyrinth?”
It would surely suit me better than being a soldier.