DADAROMA POINT OF NO RETURN

ゴッシュ‼ - kebyo

DADAROMA - Ars Amatoria

DADAROMA  クワイエットレッド Quiet Red

The world had already ended by the time he opened his eyes.

Ash blanketed the ground like a second sky fallen to earth, and the air tasted of iron and forgotten prayers. Smoke coiled above shattered mountains, and nothing moved but the slow drift of dust over the bones of empires. He didn’t remember his name — only that he had survived when so many had not.

"Keep walking" a voice echoed faintly in his mind. "So long as you move, you exist."

And so he walked. Across silent battlefields where rusted swords lay buried beneath ash, through cities whose towers stood hollow and broken like the ribs of a dying beast. His feet seemed to know the path before his mind could recall why he followed it.

At the edge of the wastelands, he found her — the woman in white, her cloak torn, her eyes burning with the last fire left in the world. Once, they called her the Savior. Now, she stood before the ruins of her own legend.

"You came back" he rasped.

"I never left" she replied, her eyes fixed on the burning horizon. "This is the kingdom I built… and the grave I deserve."

She turned, and with a simple gesture, the horizon caught fire.

And still, he walked.

Through blackened forests and across frozen rivers that no longer flowed. Among the ruins, he met the last king, crownless, seated on a broken throne.

"Why stay here?" he asked.

"To remember", the king answered. "If I leave, all of this will be forgotten. And if no one remembers… did we ever exist at all?"

Before he could reply, the ground trembled. From the cracks of the dying earth, a hunger emerged, wearing familiar faces and calling with voices that no longer belonged to the living.

"Come to us. Rest. Forget."

He turned his back on them and kept moving.

As the final dawn broke — a pale light before endless night—ash fell again. The gods were long gone, their temples swallowed by time. Only the dead moved freely now, and even they seemed lost.

Yet he pressed on, his steps heavier with each breath.

"Why am I still here?" he wondered.

And then he remembered — a promise made before the fires, a life that once held meaning.

Far from war and ruin, he reached the last sanctuary. Bodies hung in perfect stillness, bound in ritual silence. Their faces were calm, their struggle long abandoned. Above them loomed faceless gods — cold and waiting.

"Is this the end?" he thought. "A world without struggle… without hope?"

In that silence, something ancient stirred. Not with fury, but with presence so absolute that even the air refused to move.

Without words, it asked: "Will you kneel?"

He stood still, then stepped forward—not to surrender, but to rise.

Because even in the face of the end, he chose awakening.

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my Youtube : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxXe57eXPyvJm3pblJe7vTQ

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