I own nothing …

Many years later…

On December 1, 1947…

In a decrepit shed inside a rural village located in the countryside of England, Aleister Crowley, the 'Beast of Apocalypse' was lying on a haystack.

He was breathing heavily, and his body was almost completely stained red with the warm blood of his pursuers mixed with that of his own. His long ethereal hair was spread underneath him, a haunting bed of macabre platinum, tainted by the macabre crimson trickle of warm lifeblood.

Blood gushed with sickening determination from his weak body that had touched the abyss as if his own heart sought to pump it from his body. His slender fingers clamped over his wound, two hands growing paler and paler by the second.

Strength was slowly leaving his body and life force was draining away from him, but he was not the slightest bit afraid even as the cold grip of his impending death grew tighter and tighter. He never moved at all even as he bled out and his organs howled in vain protest.

What had been a blank canvas only moments before became painted red in a way that might haunt the innocent for years to come.

He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick liquid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. Yet Aleister Crowley stood watching as if he could not hear the screams from the distant horizon even as his own pulses grew slower and weaker, as if everything was a quiet theatre of no importance.

"It is quite a pity, but even I faced defeat in the end…" Aleister gasped, his breaths unstable "I hoped that the god of vengeance would yield me his place to punish the wicked, but it seems providence itself had stood against me right from the very beginning. If this is the price, I must pay for murdering my own son by these wretched hands then I can only accept it…"

Aleister lay trapped inside his own thoughts, millions of emotions that he could neither name nor comprehend flashing through his mind as he unconsciously recalled the events he did not wish to remember, events that should have never happened if only had fate been kinder…

Time itself had become irrelevant— seconds could have been hours, or hours mere seconds.

In that suspended moment, he was the eye of his own storm— but for that moment of perfect calm and mental clarity, he had been punished over and over in the most agonizing way imaginable.

Every quiet moment was spent watching those he loved being taken by death, again and again, playing the what-if game repeatedly as he surrendered himself to the sweet embrace of darkness.

In 1919, Aleister had separated himself from the supernatural world and had retreated into the imaginary-number phase of his creation for the sake of his plan which was meant to bring salvation to humanity.

But even in the strangest of his dreams, he never could have expected to see a stranger appear before him. Expectations, it seemed, had a penchant for betraying him in ways he never would have thought of.

Though the sudden appearance of a person had taken him by surprise, Aleister had not lost his bearings and quickly concluded that the human before him had been dragged before him by the safeguards he had concealed inside the Book of the 777, an astounding feat considering that it meant his encryption had been cracked, in his own lifespan no less.

Aleister Crowley was a man who had long abandoned the arrogance which plagued almost every great mind of his time and made them abandon all reason for the sake of their precious pride— this so-called honour that had destroyed so many lives.

He was well aware that it was the Puritan Church who had seized his original grimoire and understood the threat the one who could decipher the knowledge sealed in that book might become allowed to reach his true potential, especially the person in question was sworn to the Puritan Church infamous for sealing countless original grimoires such as his own.

Even more importantly, he was fully cognizant of the consequences he might have to bear if even the barest of whispers regarding his location were leaked to the outside world which had not forgiven yet his sins.

Thus, to remove a potential hazard before it could grow and for the sake of enshrouding all information regarding his existence, Aleister had not wavered even as he abandoned his pride as a sorcerer and used one of the most absolute means at his disposal which could project energy equivalent to that of the Big Bang itself to deal this unexpected intruder.

Aleister Crowley had succeeded, after all, he was the greatest sorcerer in the world who had declared war against the Magic Gods themselves as a mortal, a man who had amalgamated all his probabilities and reached the pinnacle of mankind.

But as was always the case with him, even when grasping victory Aleister Crowley had been cursed to carry eternal defeat, for the one whom he had murdered was not an enemy as he had thought, but rather his own blood— his own progeny!

He did not know whether this awareness was born from the resonance of souls or by the bonds wrought by blood, but the mere fact of its existence had shaken him, more than any fell foe could have. Yes, At that fateful moment, as soon as he had been able to perceive the true body of that intruder— Crowley knew unquestionably that this intruder was his own flesh and blood.

Once again, was Aleister Crowley made acquainted with the wrenching desolation of anguish wrought by love following which he abandoned his rationality and gave up the plan for whose sake he had put to stake his very existence.

All reason left him and without a single regret, he forsook the phase of imaginary numbers which had enshrouded him from the ever-inquisitive gaze of the supernatural world and returned to Earth, even abandoning the salvation he dreamt of bestowing upon mankind.

All he knew was that the Church of England had been in possession of the original grimoire through which his son had entered the phase where he had breathed his last. That was the only information— the only clue he had regarding his own flesh and blood.

To complete his last duty as a father, Aleister Crowley knew what he must do, he knew what he must unceasingly bear even if the world were to be destroyed in the process.

Crowley knew what awaited him.

He knew what his fate would be— he would once again be chased by every power in the supernatural world. But he never once hesitated, for he was a man who would burn the gods themselves for the sake of those he loved.

Aleister Crowley…

This person was a man cursed with numerous flaws and countless shortcomings, so much so that there existed a huge gap between him and a normal 'human' being.

A person so conceited, so depraved that he spat on both man and God alike. He was someone who advocated truly the universal right to study and grasp all truths of the world and wholeheartedly looked down on the masses who were content being ignorant.

He was someone who had rejected the ideals of the current world and refused to acknowledge those who, in his own arrogantly righteous opinion, had cast aside true freedom. He who held his own parents and peers in contempt for in his eyes, they as many others he had met were hypocrites fooled by their own delusions— proclaiming themselves just and righteous yet acting disgracefully as if they were thoughtless fools who thought nobody could see through their blatant hypocrisy.

But though Aleister was a being with many shortcomings, there was one aspect about him— as noble as the death of a martyr and as pure as the embrace of a mother, one that no man could reject in right judgment and that was his love.

His love for family…

This person who, at a simple glance, seemed to be an apathetic man deprived of any human emotion wholly detached from worldly concerns was just a broken soul who had deeply enshrouded the boundless love inside his heart behind a curtain of hatred and rage.

Crowley was a man prepared to give everything for his family, someone who would not hesitate to become the enemy of the world for the sake of those he loved.

The reason why he dreamed of the destruction of mystery and the downfall of each Magic God was not because of his overly supercilious ambitions and patronizing ideals which were widely infamous in higher circles of power.

No, his bloody crusade against the world began because it was the existence of mystery that had brought death to his eldest daughter just months after her birth...

Aleister Crowley was a man who had declared war upon the supernatural— gods who existed since the dawn of time and would be there at its end. Supreme beings who would never die. Primordial entities who knew neither pain nor suffering. omnipotent demons who could not bleed. Immortals, who never needed to fear the touch of death or comprehend the meaning of an end.

He had declared war against them all just for the sake of his innocent daughter who had been betrayed by fate.

Aleister was a human who had once drowned universes in seas of torment and anguish. He was one who washed his feet in the blood of the wicked and bid his farewell to kindness just because of a baby who never even received the chance of happiness…

The apathetic cruelty of destiny had changed the future of mystery itself in the nineteen hundred four as a single human seized the throne of vengeance from God himself and bared his fangs upon the world of the supernatural to enact his revenge.

Yet even before his decadent rampage, Aleister Crowley and his version of the Thoth Tarot had desecrated Christianity by declaring that the Final Judgment and the end of the rule of God.

The start of the Aeon of Horus…

The end of Christianity and the birth of the Beast of the Apocalypse who would devour the world— both occurred together in that fateful year and challenged the ordained course of history. So, what exactly had happened in 1904?

If one were to ask Aleister Crowley, the answer would be as follows—

It all began when he received the Holy Guardian Angel named Aiwass and created the original grimoire known as the Book of the Law.

Aiwass was brought into the material phase using the body of Rose Crowley as a medium when the couple had visited Egypt and had conveyed to Aleister the secrets which he would later use to lay the foundations of the Thelemic system of mystery mandated into an original grimoire which would later shake the world itself.

The Holy Guardian Angel had been brought into this world by Aleister Crowley using the body of his beloved wife.

The Angel had long, golden hair and radiant skin. But that skin was endlessly cold, it could also be described as pale platinum. She was ethereal and beautiful, but perhaps that might be because she was such a distant being. She seemed as if she were an unseen jewel precious beyond measure, but perhaps that was because she was neither inorganic nor organic.

She was Aiwass.

But was the Holy Guardian Angel really such an alluring being?

An angel that neither science nor theology can explain. A symbol of an aspect outside God's creation which He created— the means through which one could deny the fate forced upon the world by Heavens themselves...

When summoning Aiwass, it was apparent Aleister did not want the knowledge he had sealed inside the Book of the Law. Rather he wanted the aberrant angel itself which became one in its ways and it was in the year 1904, that he embarked upon this ambition.

Later, his wife Rose became pregnant and out of love for his yet unborn daughter, Aleister Crowley had read the very stars themselves to know the name he would bestow upon his daughter which was carved through meaning and ended up being very astonishingly long.

Soon, his daughter with the initial name Lilith was born into the world through his wife Rose and the world seemed to turn brighter for Aleister Crowley when he saw first the face of his innocent daughter.

For some meagre and fleeting amount of time which sadly did last long, the most sinful human who had never once witnessed the warmth of a family finally achieved true happiness which could only be born through love.

Aleister even stopped his magical research in order to oversee the birth of Lilith and protect his unstable wife and unfortunate daughter afterward.

But sometimes, when Lilith reached out with her small hand towards Aleister, he wavered in reaching out with his own. Perhaps not wanting to or knowing that he did not have the right to take her hand.

Yes, even the innocent smile of his daughter could not wash away the resolve inside his heart. The salvation that Aleister once dreamt of was yet incomplete and for as long as that that remained so, he could not rest peacefully at night.

Thus, Aleister decided to move forward for the sake of his revolution with yet another reason to fight for…

To make up for the delay, after the condition of his wife and his daughter had evened Aleister Crowley embarked upon a trip to a certain great mountain for the sake of a crucial objective.

However, when he was away, the desecration of universal causality wrought upon by the Sparks formed by the interaction between phases had brought death to his only daughter.

Random events such as sudden accidents or spontaneous sicknesses were not phenomena that could exist in this world.

Reportedly, it was declared that Lilith had succumbed to a sudden yet wretched disease which had had no cure but only those who could peer into the depths of the world deeper could comprehend the true reason behind her death.

It was fate that had destroyed an innocent life that day and so Aleister Crowley had declared war against fate itself…

Her death was not something any man could have prevented for it was not a human mistake that had taken her life, but destiny that had betrayed her.

Interaction between phases— a simple phenomenon somewhere in the distant world had occurred, perhaps even years ago influencing causality and probability in such a manner that the entire universe had distorted to spontaneously create conditions that forced a deadly sickness upon his daughter.

The minute random events which accumulated to create something impactful, something greater were created by the overlapping of phases.

Indeed, abstract concepts such as coincidence and randomness were not natural phenomena which could exist in this world where destiny shaped by unseen sparks was imposed upon the universe.

This multiverse or using the correct terminology, the World was formed from infinite phases representing numerous divine legends and religions and encompassing countless laws.

Moreover, the distances between the phases are not even and the gaps between them change irregularly regularly. As the overlapping phases come into contact and brush and grind against one another, the natural phenomena known as sparks are known to be produced.

With the recent increase in the prevalence of modern sorcery, particularly those based on systems of unified theory such as Hermeticism, this interaction between phases had become more frequent, creating even more Sparks as a result.

These Sparks produced by phases have a shockingly subtle but widespread influence on mankind. The spray of these Sparks produced by phasic interaction could subtly distort the order of the material world, creating concepts known as fortune and misfortune.

It was a form of providence that could change the result of coin tosses, the order in which dishes were served at a restaurant, the time meetings and partings, the successes of marriages, the causes of divorces, and even the deaths of humans.

If one could see no direct reason behind an uncanny occurrence, it might be prudent to assume it to be a spontaneous event caused by a phenomenon that had manipulated the lives of so many people unwillingly.

Contrary to what people thought— the rise and fall of civilizations and cultures were not what dictated the paths of the future and the balances of power in the material world. If one were to look deeper into it, providence was naught but sprays of Sparks which could not become a miracle.

Even as the nations fought for supremacy and glared at each other across borders— the continents of the world continued slowly moving. Not even the greatest of human powers could stop that movement. In face of such occurrences, were the histories on the planet's surface not astoundingly trivial?

The interaction between phases and universes which produced sparks that gave rise to distortions in destiny was such a phenomenon. The gaps between phases changed randomly, and there was nothing a single mortal could do about it.

A phenomenon that cannot be measured might as well not exist— this was what Mathers had once said but was it not the weakness of mankind that gave birth to this sort of ignorance?

No one knew what manner of destiny had been forced upon countless innocents by these sparks. But even when precious lives were thrown out of that shallow and widespread current, there may not have been an overall cause behind it.

And that was why it was nigh impossible to counter this unavoidable fate.

Aleister Crowley himself had so often performed magic beneath an unseen canopy of ignorance with no sense of danger, but what if that too had been wrapped in the same wickedness as these mysteries of those he so despised?

Yes… What if?

Aleister Crowley learned of his daughter's death by letter once he had returned from that certain mountain.

He who had wished for his daughter's happiness more than anyone was not even allowed to be with her as she lay in agony, helpless as she was slowly dragged into the cold embrace of death.

On that day, the Beast of Apocalypse had left a single tear stain in his diary.

As a human, the crux of the man known as Aleister Crowley was astonishingly simple and to a certain extent could even be called 'pure'.

Just for the sake of his daughter and countless others such as her, Aleister Crowley stood up and declared war upon the cruel world. For a single child who had been embraced by death just days after she was born, he gave up on mankind and bade farewell to the meagre kindness inside his heart.

The moment Lelouch had 'disappeared', he too had witnessed the heart of Aleister Crowley.

Aleister Crowley was a human whose arduous paths were always drenched in defeat and setbacks.

No matter what Aleister strived for and regardless of how meticulously he weaved his plans, in the end, he would eventually encounter defeat.

The Silver Star was cursed with perpetual defeat, fated and destined to never succeed. But even then, he kept on going, regardless of what the outcome may be.

Regardless of what oblation he gave or how arduous the path he took was— the result always ended in devastation for he was cursed to meet defeat miserably every single time. But he rose again from the ashes of desolation and never wavered in his doleful endeavours to grasp 'success'.

This was a ludicrous man whose woeful tragedy could make hardened men weep in pity and sorrow.

For a man such as Aleister Crowley whose every soul burned brightest with love— even if unintended murdering his own son must have been the darkest nightmare whose torment would haunt him till the end of time. Against this wayward father, this was perhaps the greatest form of revenge anyone could have subjected him to!

Yes, even as a person with countless shortcomings whose soul was desecrated by the burden of every sin imaginable, there was one single noble aspect noble about Aleister Crowley and that was his love.

He was not a man who would abandon his obligations as a parent. He was one who held love in the highest regard, and even death would not deter him.

He would not rest for as long as he uncovered every trace of the son, he never even knew he had.

This was his duty as a parent, and to complete it he abandoned all pretenses of secrecy and stepped foot into the cruel world once again.

Aleister Crowley, the most sinful heretic in history and the sworn enemy of mystery itself— the one who would rip asunder the world for those who he loved.

He was a man who had declared war upon the supernatural and dreamt of bringing desolation to mystery itself, and thus was the greatest enemy of the supernatural world.

All who used the power of mystery would never cease any aggressions against him, for his existence itself was not something they could tolerate.

Amongst those who came after him the moment he stepped foot into this land, the ones from the Church of England were perhaps the most desperate.

Although Aleister Crowley was a being who had surpassed all human comprehension, in the end, he was but a mere mortal who had dared force revolution upon the eternal Heavens themselves.

From 1919 to 1947, for twenty-eight years—

Yes, Aleister Crowley had been constantly fighting against the world itself across countless phases and universes without a single second of rest. He fought Gods whose authority ruled over worlds. Wizards who whispered at the dawn of creation and would be there at its end. Immortals who knew neither defeat nor retreat. Omnipotent spirits who could call upon a touch of death. Primordial entities who never comprehend the meaning of an end

But just yesterday, the Beast of Apocalypse was fatally injured by those cowards who swore allegiance to the Church of England.

Those murderers of the Puritan Church had seized an opportunity to launch an apocalyptic spell at his unguarded back when he was clashing against the might of three Chief Gods together which was what led Aleister to this unsightly state.

No emotion could be seemed to grace his aristocratic face even as the mighty man known as the Silver Stary lay dying, the world having taken his majesty and cut it out into tiny starlets, so fine that all the world would be in love with night should they be scattered upon the heavens.

"Perhaps this is the ending I deserve…"

Aleister felt neither misery nor anguish even as death brushed her cold lips against his pale forehead and drove the knife of oblivion deeper into his back.

All his sorrow had been used the moment he murdered his own child three decades years ago. He had cried, but his tears had dried up and run out. So, he became a BEAST, reduced to a wrathful monster.

More than anyone else, it was he himself who knew what his deposition truly was…

It was almost unfathomable to image Aleister Crowley accepting defeat— for he was one who would cease moving forward even when the arduous path ahead was decked with constant defeats. He was someone who could face countless setbacks and tragedies in an endless loop with no visible end.

To Aleister Crowley, the ones who moved against him were an extraneous obstacle whether it be the whole world itself standing together or armadas of Magic Gods who could change the laws of the universe.

He would never waver. He would never stop. That was who Aleister Crowley was.

Regardless of how desperate the future may be, it was inconceivable to defeat this wicked man. However, there was one single thing in this whole world that could make Aleister waver, the one single weakness whose mere thought could stop him.

And that was— his own family!

CREAK…

The door of the straw house in which Aleister lay was pushed open, and he was forced to lay there and wait as the gentle footsteps of someone whose actions would probably spell death for him. However, he remained calm and unshaken before his impending doom.

—dripping from his voice, "The church or perhaps some other magic cabal? Would it be mighty Three Faction or some God whose authority I have spat upon before?"

He paused, humming in mock amusement even as his wounded body screamed in anguish, and quakes of agony ran through his mind.

"Well, you must not waver at this point. I imagine that your masters consider my head to be a valuable price, so just take it as I remain helpless. You would regret indecision— such a chance to murder me as shall never arise again if you hesitate now."

The person who walked into the room did not make a sound, as if he wanted to suppress Aleister inside this repressive atmosphere.

The sound of steps on the unpaved ground was not so strident but they were not subtle. Aleister knew the ground below was covered in straw and dry leaves. Anyone who wished for his head should have been at least exercising some degree of caution, but this man was not.

Each footstep rang as if a church bell on a quiet Sunday morning, rudely awakening the Saturday night revellers, and echoed sharply throughout the deserted room. They sounded overly loud to his own ears as if they were the booming heartbeat of a condemned prisoner. How could someone come here so bold?

However, when Aleister finally saw his executor—

"A frog? "

Aleister looked at the man before him with a frog-like face with shock and amazement. The man was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses and his body was somewhat bloated.

The top of his head was starting to bald and perhaps would completely be so soon, with his remaining hair at the side having prominent streaks of grey which blatantly stood out. He was wearing a doctor's uniform which clung loosely to his somewhat fat body. Aleister noted that the doctor seemed to be pocking fun at the fact that he resembled a frog, for upon his ID card was a sticker of a blushing frog.

"How could you possibly call someone a frog at their first meeting? That seems to be so awfully rude of you. "

The 'executor' murmured in dissatisfaction.

However, Aleister had never seen this man before, nor neither could he see any visible mark of identification that made his allegiance towards any supernatural faction that he knew of clear. More importantly, even with his finely honed senses, Crowley could not sense any mana from him— it seemed that this man might not be one of his pursuers who had relentlessly been chasing after him for decades.

The old man then came to close Aleister and looked at his injuries seriously, "...It is a serious injury. If you are not treated at the moment, you would surely perish soon. "

"Who are you? "

Aleister's strength was comparable to that of a newborn and there was none who was more aware of the fact than Crowley himself. Thus, facing this old man who could murder him with laughable ease at any moment, he could not muster much caution. He just asked his questions calmly, knowing that the man held power over him regardless of what resistance he could muster.

"Who am I? " The old man whispered, then he turned his head and looked at the sky. He then shook his head and smiled; "I dare not look towards the past anymore, so answering that question might prove to be troublesome. But please call me Heaven Canceller if you want!"

"Heaven Canceller? "

"What an arrogant name it is…" Aleister whispered, grinning at the notion regardless. Nothing amused him more than blasphemy that challenged the might of the Heavens.

"Perhaps it is, but it seems that your time is running out, so I advise you to remain quiet and stop moving." The man frowned and moved closer "I need to treat you and at this stage, your cooperation would be much appreciated."

The old man who called himself the Heaven Canceller kneeled down to prepare for the emergency treatment, his frown deepening as he looked at the unsanitary ground his patient was resting upon before he closed his eyes and shook his round head.

The situation was dire enough as it was, and there was no time to complain about meaningless factions which were not in his power to change. He would need to improvise to make up for the lack of medical equipment.

"No cure can grant salvation to my body which has been the target of countless curses. Not even magic can heal me now…"

Aleister continued to speak calmly. He knew his situation well enough, there was no chance for survival of the curses laid upon him that could drown entire universes.

"If magic does not work, then use science! "

Aleister looked at the old man who he had met by chance, and his bleak eyes brightened again.

"Science..."

Of course, he did not wish for death yet. But it was neither the fear of death nor greed for life which gave birth to this yearning for life— the fact that he had not yet completed his purpose grated him.

His dream of salvation remained incomplete and the vengeance that his children rightfully deserved had not been served yet. He refused to accept defeat unless he saw through them both to the very end.

For Aleister Crowley, even death was but one of the countless setbacks which lay upon his path. The prospect of eternal oblivion could not make waver yet.

"Do you know who you are saving? " He still asked.

"I don't care who you are." The doctor shook his head in indifference, "I only know that you are a patient who is in urgent need of treatment. No matter what happens, I would never abandon any of my patients! "

Heaven Canceller decisively said those awe-inspiring words as he worked upon the man whose death was something that the entire world wished for.

The Declaration of Geneva had only reinitiated the Hippocratic practice, which respected the sanctity of life and all that entailed. Wherever the art of medicine was loved, there was also a love of humanity and the man who had so arrogantly proclaimed himself as a canceller of the Heavens refused to hesitate before his duty as a doctor.

"You really are a strange man..."

Aleister paused for a moment and continued: "I have too many enemies in England and they would not lower their guard even if I were to vanish once again, I cannot stay here..."

The doctor glanced at him for a moment, understanding that Crowley's words were not meant for himself. He too would be condemned if he saved the Beast of Apocalypse.

"Maybe you should go to Japan. It has just been defeated in the Second World War and that land of sunrise has everything you need. Only a few years have passed since the war ended and that country has not completely recovered yet. It would certainly be able to accommodate you. "

After thinking about it for a moment, Heaven Canceller pointed a way for Aleister Crowley, even as he carefully considered his own words which might just shape the course of history for years to come.

"Perhaps you are right…" Aleister closed his eyes and whispered, "It is indeed the most opportune moment for us to construct an institution of our own. We can even take advantage of the Japanese need which demands education and technological recovery."

To the supernatural world, Aleister Crowley, the most sinful human and the most dangerous magician succumbed to death in the countryside of England on December 1, 1947.

In 1950, Academy City was built in Japan—

Somewhere...

...

In the darkness, Lelouch slowly opened his heavy eyelids as he regained consciousness.

This felt as if it were the worst chapter I have ever written since it was mostly an info dump about Aleister Crowley and his past but I hope that made an appropriate introduction to Aleister Crowley. He is a surprisingly complex character, a man who would destroy the world for his dreams but would give them up for the sake of love and I want to do his character justice. So expect more when he appears again- which would be after a long time if we get to that point. He is a proper end-game villain after all.

Now, some trivia. To those who do not know- Aleister Crowley is actually cursed to fail in everything he does which was why I mentioned countless setbacks. In the canon, this leads to him forming the sort of impossible bullshit plans where the world would move closer to his desires regardless of whether his schemes fail or succeed. Also, Fate or destiny is an actual tangible thing in both To Aru and Nasuverse and has a bearing on the stories in both works. Though the only To Aru explains the mechanisms behind it, which was what I had used.

The backstory was almost the same as what happened in canon and yes, it was all an ambush planned by Coronzon. More on this would be explained in the next chapter.

Crowley is defeated, his only weakness being his humanity. Despite all his power, he is only human susceptible to fatigue and error. Still, I imagine fighting for three decades against the entire supernatural world all on his lonesome was commendable. In the end, he was taken by a backstab he was not expecting while fighting three Chief Gods. Academy City was also established, and Lelouch is alive. Though, I suppose this may not surprise you. Bullshit Protagonist plot armor for the win, but jokes aside it would be explained how he survived. The prologue is officially over and the real story begins now. One of revenge, tragedy, justice, ideals, love, and betrayal.

Thanks for staying with me all this time and have a nice day.