Three years ago, on a certain day, the Second World War broke out, and the flames of war reached many countries, including the remote area where I was located.
I still remember, on that early morning, the children had a strange expression, but I didn't pay much attention and went directly to the town to buy groceries. Soon after arriving in town, I saw villagers running out of the village while shouting.
"Something bad happened. A dozen soldiers just barged into Fuxing Village."
Fuxing Village was the village where the children and I lived. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, I immediately dropped what I was holding and hurried back. I ran quite fast, thanks to my past experience as a mercenary, which had built my strong physique. However, because of the long distance, even I took quite some time.
By the time I reached the village, it was in complete chaos. Ignoring the exhaustion from continuous running, I rushed home, calling out the children's names desperately. But there was no response. Fear gripped my heart as I rushed in, and as soon as I entered, my mind went blank. The children, all of them, were there, just like when I left, except for one difference—their bodies were covered in blood. Blood was everywhere, on the floor, on the table, on the walls, wherever I looked.
The sight of so much red made me feel numb. I couldn't feel my tired body at all. I walked in a daze, with no emotions, deeper into the house.
Soon, I noticed what the children were holding in their hands. Although one of them had a similar color, it was clear that it was an apple, now even redder than before, with a crumpled note soaked in blood stuck to it. Most of the other things the children were holding had been broken.
My trembling hands made it difficult for me to move, and my actions were slow. After some time, I finally managed to open the partially torn note. Some of the other things had notes stuck to them or words carved on them. Although the handwriting, style, and wording were different, the general meaning was the same— "Happy birthday, Dad." It seemed they had saved money secretly to buy these items. Only then did I remember that today was my own birthday, and they had done all this to surprise me. I recalled their strange expressions earlier in the morning.
Although I wanted to be happy, I couldn't... Instead, all I felt was endless anger. They had taken away my reason for existence. I couldn't let them get away with it. The only thought in my mind at that moment was to kill them all. Not a single one could be spared. I wanted to eliminate them completely.
Anger soon consumed my entire being.
Driven by hatred, I desperately searched everywhere, like a wild beast hunting for its prey. Soon, I found them, armed, destroying other parts of the village.
In the blink of an eye, I charged towards them with unimaginable speed, throwing a punch at one of them. The person was hit and flew backward, crashing into the wall behind, sliding down like a piece of paper, leaving a puddle of blood on the wall.
Was my strength really that strong? I couldn't help but wonder.
Despite these thoughts, my body moved without hesitation, swiftly killing one enemy after another. I was like a killing machine, devoid of emotions, with killing as my only purpose for existence.
Although they were all armed, it ended quickly, a complete massacre.
When I finally regained my senses, blood stains were everywhere, and they were all lying on the ground.
Suddenly, a mocking laughter came from behind.
"Impressive... Truly impressive..."
I silently turned around and saw a young man standing not far away, about ten years younger than me.
The young man was neatly dressed, which contrasted with the surroundings, and had gray hair.
Ignoring me, the young man excitedly made a suggestion.
"Since you are so impressive, why not join us?"
"..."
Seeing that I didn't respond, the young man didn't give up but continued to smile.
"I know your situation. They killed your children. They deserve to die. Don't you feel that there's something wrong with this world? If so, you should join us. Together, we will change this world and create a new one."
"Changing the World..."
Yes, this world is beyond salvation. Those children did nothing wrong, yet they suffer so much. Change is necessary. This world must be transformed.
With this thought in mind, I approached the young people.
Later, I became a soldier again. However, my purpose changed. It was no longer about seeking death, but about changing the world. With the power of that individual, the Second World War quickly ceased for some reason. But this world still needs transformation.
Therefore, no matter what that individual asks of me, I will do it without questioning. Wearing a mask, I forget my own identity, my past, even who I am. I become like a machine, obediently carrying out missions.
Everything is for the purpose of changing this twisted world, and creating a new one.
