Chapter 120:The Forgotten Memories

The universe had gone silent.

Two figures stood in the middle of the endless sea of stars.

The Soul King.

The Ghost King.

Both had gathered everything they possessed into a single point.

No armies.

No tricks.

No hesitation.

Only two friends—

who had somehow become enemies.

The pressure between them distorted space.

Distant planets began breaking apart.

Stars trembled.

Entire galaxies bent beneath the force gathering around them.

Lucifer stood far away, watching.

For once, even he didn't speak.

Something about the two kings felt different.

This wasn't merely a battle.

It felt personal.

Then—

the Ghost King laughed.

A strange, bitter laugh.

"You know..."

The Soul King looked at him.

"I still remember you."

The Ghost King's expression changed.

"Do you?"

The Soul King smiled faintly.

"I remember enough."

And suddenly—

the battlefield disappeared.

Many Years Ago

Before they were kings.

Before they were monsters.

Before the world feared their names—

they had names.

Names that once belonged to ordinary children.

But time had erased them.

Even they could no longer remember.

All that remained were fragments.

Two children.

Two orphans.

Two hungry boys living in an orphanage where kindness was a luxury.

The future Soul King remembered one particular night.

He had been starving.

The food given to the children had never been enough.

His stomach hurt.

He couldn't sleep.

So he tried to steal a piece of bread.

He didn't get far.

The caretaker caught him.

He was beaten.

Again.

And again.

Until he could barely stand.

No one came to help.

No one cared.

That night, he learned something.

The world didn't care if he lived.

So he drank water.

A lot of water.

He filled his stomach with it.

Then he curled up in a corner and waited for the pain to disappear.

But someone sat beside him.

Another orphan.

A boy around his age.

The boy didn't say anything.

He simply took a slice of bread from his own portion—

and gave it to him.

The future Soul King stared.

"You'll be hungry."

The boy shrugged.

"I'll survive."

That was all.

No grand speech.

No promise.

Just a piece of bread.

A tiny act of kindness in a place where kindness barely existed.

The Soul King ate it slowly.

He never forgot that taste.

He forgot the boy's face.

He forgot his name.

He forgot almost everything.

But he remembered the bread.

And the kindness behind it.

Years passed.

The two boys became inseparable.

They protected each other.

When one was beaten—

the other stayed beside him.

When one was hungry—

the other shared whatever he had.

When they were afraid—

they pretended they weren't.

Eventually, they stopped waiting for someone to save them.

They decided to save themselves.

They rebelled.

They ran away from the orphanage.

The streets became their home.

They stole.

They robbed.

Sometimes they succeeded.

Sometimes they were caught.

Sometimes they were beaten.

But they always escaped together.

They slept beneath bridges.

They shared stolen food.

They laughed when they had nothing.

They dreamed about someday becoming strong enough that nobody could ever hurt them again.

Two boys against the world.

And somehow—

that was enough.

Then the world changed.

Ghost waves became more frequent.

The grim reapers couldn't handle the growing number of ghosts.

They needed soldiers.

They needed warriors.

They needed children who could be trained from a young age.

So the military began recruiting orphans and abandoned children.

The two boys were taken.

Their new home was no better.

It was a place where children learned the difference between life and death.

Every day was training.

Every day was pain.

Every day was survival.

But this time—

one of them began to shine.

The boy who had once shared his bread became extraordinary.

His control over soul energy was almost perfect.

His martial ability developed rapidly.

He learned faster than everyone around him.

He climbed through the ranks.

Commander.

Captain.

Elite grim reaper.

His talent seemed limitless.

Meanwhile—

his childhood friend struggled.

He trained until his body could barely move.

He failed.

Again.

And again.

But he continued.

The talented boy kept rising.

The other kept falling behind.

Eventually, the distance between them became too large.

They stopped training together.

Stopped eating together.

Stopped talking as often.

Their lives began moving in different directions.

But neither truly hated the other.

Not yet.

Then came the Great Ghost Wave.

Even the previous Soul King entered the battlefield.

Thousands of ghosts poured into the world.

The sky darkened.

The ground shook.

Entire units disappeared.

Even the gifted young grim reaper—the future Ghost King—was overwhelmed.

For the first time in his life—

he felt fear.

Real fear.

The kind that made his instincts scream one simple command.

Run.

He tried to retreat.

Not because he was a coward.

Because he wanted to live.

He had worked too hard to die.

He turned away from the battlefield.

And then—

he saw someone standing alone at the frontline.

His old friend.

The weakest among them.

The boy who had once been beaten for stealing bread.

He was standing there.

Alone.

Protecting people who couldn't protect themselves.

The Ghost King stared.

"Why?"

The Soul King didn't turn around.

"Because someone has to."

"You'll die."

"I know."

"You're not strong enough."

The Soul King smiled.

"I know that too."

The Ghost King clenched his fists.

"You idiot!"

The Soul King finally looked back.

"Maybe."

Then he turned toward the incoming ghosts.

"But I'm still staying."

And he did.

The battle lasted for hours.

Then days.

The casualties were enormous.

But eventually—

the grim reapers won.

The ghost wave ended.

Silence returned.

But victory had a price.

The previous Soul King was severely injured.

Everyone knew he wouldn't survive.

The next king had to be chosen.

Everyone expected the answer.

The gifted warrior.

The strongest candidate.

The future Ghost King.

Even he believed it.

He had been promised.

He had spent his entire life preparing.

He had become the strongest among his generation.

So when the previous Soul King gathered everyone—

the Ghost King stepped forward.

But the previous king looked past him.

Toward the weaker warrior.

The boy who had stood alone at the frontline.

The boy who had fought despite knowing he was weaker.

"I choose him."

Silence.

The future Ghost King's expression froze.

"What?"

The previous Soul King looked at him.

"You are strong."

He smiled.

"And that is why you will always believe you can overcome fear through strength."

Then he looked toward the other man.

"But he knew he was weak."

The room became silent.

"He knew he could die."

"And he stood there anyway."

The previous Soul King slowly raised his hand.

"Strength makes it easy to fight an enemy."

His eyes moved across the gathered grim reapers.

"But fighting your own fear..."

He looked toward the future Soul King.

"...while knowing you may lose..."

"...is far harder."

He took a breath.

"That is the person I want protecting this world."

No one objected.

The decision was accepted.

The new Soul King was chosen.

Everyone celebrated.

Everyone except one person.

The future Ghost King stood alone.

His hands trembled.

His entire life—

his entire dream—

had been taken from him.

And the person who received it was the one person he never expected.

His friend.

The boy who had once eaten the bread he shared.

He felt betrayed.

He felt forgotten.

He felt robbed.

And anger slowly replaced everything else.

He walked away.

Into the darkness.

No one stopped him.

No one knew where he went.

Until one day—

he found something waiting for him there.

Power.

A power born from the darkness.

A power that whispered to his anger.

You were betrayed.

You were forgotten.

Take what should have been yours.

He accepted it.

And the boy who once shared his bread—

became the Ghost King.

Present

The memories disappeared.

The universe returned.

The two kings stood facing each other.

The Ghost King laughed.

"Do you remember now?"

The Soul King looked at him.

"I remember."

"Then you know why I'm going to kill you."

The Soul King smiled sadly.

"I know."

The Ghost King gathered every ounce of his power.

"So fight me!"

The Soul King raised his fist.

"I am."

The universe shook.

They attacked simultaneously.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The collision erased an entire planetary system.

Neither moved.

Both pushed harder.

The shockwave traveled through space.

Stars collapsed.

Planets shattered.

Galaxies twisted under the pressure.

Far away, enormous celestial structures were compressed until they collapsed into black holes.

The Ghost King roared.

The Soul King answered.

They fought like gods.

But beneath every strike—

there were memories.

Two hungry children.

A piece of bread.

A cold street.

Two boys sleeping beneath the same bridge.

Two friends promising that one day they would become strong.

The Ghost King attacked with everything.

The Soul King defended.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Then—

both gathered everything into one final strike.

The universe seemed to hold its breath.

The Ghost King's fist became surrounded by darkness.

The Soul King's fist became surrounded by pure soul energy.

They moved.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The collision swallowed everything around them.

Lucifer watched from afar.

When the light finally faded—

one figure remained standing.

The Ghost King.

He looked down.

The Soul King was falling.

His body was still.

The Ghost King stared.

Then he laughed.

He laughed harder.

After centuries—

he had finally won.

"I did it..."

His voice trembled.

"I finally killed you."

But then he noticed something.

The Soul King's fist.

It wasn't clenched anymore.

His final strike had been pulled back.

At the last moment—

he had stopped himself.

Because he couldn't kill his friend.

The Ghost King's smile slowly disappeared.

The Soul King was falling through the darkness.

His eyes were already closing.

Yet there was a faint smile on his face.

A peaceful one.

As though he had finally found something he had been searching for all these years.

The Ghost King stared at him.

"Why..."

His voice cracked.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

There was no answer.

The Soul King's body disappeared into the darkness.

But the smile remained.

The Ghost King stood motionless.

His hands began trembling.

He had spent centuries wanting to defeat the person he once loved most.

And when he finally succeeded—

he realized something terrible.

He had never actually wanted to kill him.

He had only wanted his friend to understand how much he had hurt him.

The Ghost King lowered his head.

A single tear drifted into the darkness.

"You idiot..."

His voice became almost a whisper.

"You were always stronger than me."

Far away—

Lucifer watched silently.

For once, he didn't smile.

Two kings.

Two friends.

Two orphans who had once shared a single piece of bread.

And after all those years—

one had killed the other.

Not because they had stopped caring.

But because they had cared so much that neither knew how to forgive.

The universe remained silent.

Then—

the Ghost King slowly raised his head.

His eyes turned toward the place where the Soul King had disappeared.

And something inside him broke.

Not his power.

Not his body.

Something much deeper.

His hatred had finally achieved its purpose.

And now—

there was nothing left for him to hate.

Two boys had once promised they would survive together.

Only one remained.