People say, the World is old. It is coming to an end.

I wonder,

at the end of the World, what kind of scenery might unfold beneath your feet?

Is it of destruction,

or the birth of a new life?

--

The World began with the Earth, and the Sky. And then, connecting the two opposites, were the Pillars. The Pillars were fixed at an interval, they were implanted deep into the ground, and loomed over an expanse of the Earth, far, far past the clouds, way into the hovering Sky.

The Pillars were not supposed to move. Yet, over time, as the Earth became teemed with people, so did the soil with the remnants of bad deeds. The ground which the Pillars rested in crumbled. And, as a matter of course, the Pillars did as well. When the Pillars come together, that is when the Heavens fall, and the life as we know it, shall perish.

People strived to live longer, and so they sought for the way to keep the Pillars from collapsing.

That was when this strange rumour spread around. That the Pillars were each being built upon a sealed demon. The demons struggled to break free, yet the spells binding them were made for eternity. And thus, the demons enticed the guardians of the Pillars by granting them gifts, through which Evil was born.

And now, Fate is upon the guardians' descendants, whose gifts are harbingers of the World's end.

--

"And so, what are they to do? They've been living with their gifts for generations, it's not something so easy to give up on, I'm sure."

"Then have they not humanity in them? What is mere gift compared to the rest of the World?"

"You are talking about physical goods. What if these gifts are some sort of super powers? What if letting them go will kill them?"

"Then it is but a noble sacrifice!"

"To save the World at the expense of their lives? And what do they get in return? We don't even know if the World really is dying. They die, and we won't even feel the difference."

The sun is scorching. The market is bustling with people, as they jostle around each other carrying bags of goods, either for their own need, or to be sold at the selling points out of town. At one corner of the market, a group of five men were resting under the shades of the guards office roof.

"No! You have to believe! The World really is dying. That is the only reason why more and more people die in wars, and the prices rise, and less and less people able to feed their children."

"Something is not right with the World. The air smells foul. And you feel that you have to look back at every turn, worrying you'll be the next to part with this World for no apparent reason."

"The life cycles. The is no such thing as an end. Parting is the way for the next meeting."

"You just go on and on about your circle of life for all I care. The World might not end, but it is ill. And if the World is not ending, then we are!"

"Why, such gloomy topic in the broad daylight, gentlemen?!" a shrill voice breaks the banter that is about to happen. Five pairs of eyes turn to the entrance, where a lonesome young man stands tilting forward, his back is burdened with a massive brown bag. In his hands are smaller brown bags. Various things seem to be packed into them.

"What do you need, lad?" one market guardian asks gruffly.

"Nothing but a place to rest my ailing feet," the young man answers, beaming while raising one of his feet as a gesture. Not a convincing gesture, as he was doing it with such a comically huge thing on his back. If he can still stand upright on one foot, he might as well strong enough to go a few yards more to a cheap lodging just outside the market area.

"We ain't doing charity here!" the guard grumbles.

"I wasn't asking for one," the young man says simply. "Isn't it your business to manage the market?"

"Market, yes. Freeloader, no."

"I am no such thing!" the young man exclaims with bugged eyes. "I'm a traveling merchant! I just came back from Voorchard and with me sweet, sweet items. You won't get 'em anywhere, anyone else!"

The guard squints, but then he and his companions guffaw like it was the best joke of their lifetime.

"Don't know why you're spouting such lies, young lad, but if you're trying to get on our good side, you're doing it wrong."

"No, no, no! Look at this!"

And then, the young man drops his backpack onto the ground—it falls with a loud noise as its contents bump with each other. He rummages the inside of the bag for a while, and then as he exclaims, "A-ha!" he pulls out something jet black.

"See this? This is the black diamond indigenous to the illustrious hills of Voorchard! The best material for mindslates! See if anyone can provide something as rare!"

But the market guardians only laugh even louder at the young man's spirited claim.

"Kid, seriously, get outta here!"

"Do you not believe me?!"

"Yes, I believe you, that's why I say you need to scram and try to sell in another place!" the guard says with finality in his tone. He points out to the market exitway. "Look, we've got no time for you. The market is full with desperate people. It's about time we hear a scuffle and someone is bound to lose something precious lest we get the move on. So lad—ah! You hear that?"

Somewhere in the market, there are shouts and screams.

"Now that's our business. Look for some other place to trade, kid! Yorrel, come with me!" the guard hails a younger man from among the guardians behind him. A young man who looks around the same age as the traveling merchant shoots up from his seat.

"Aye, Sir!"

And then, the two of them jog towards the commotion.

The young traveling merchant shifts his hopeful look at the rest of the guardians in their office. Then, the one that looks the oldest among the three stands up.

"Kid, I don't care where you got your goods or what they are. This isn't the place to sell magical items. Even if it is, you can't bypass the registration procedure. Get your trading license from the Market Management Office, then we can speak. Otherwise, open up your own store some place else."

The merchant blanches.

"But that's awfully expensive!"

"Expensive is what gets the World going."

"Are all markets in this country work the same?"

"Of course."

"So you mean I have to at least get to Archard to sell?"

"Perhaps."

"That is so weird!"

"Weird is also a principle of the World."

"You people are weird! If the people of Yoechard don't open up to the global market, you could be done in a few years!"

"We here don't care about global economics and all your capitalism mumbo jumbo. We're here to trade and that's all there is to it. Don't like our way, don't get your pay. And I advise you to get lost before the guy before comes back."

The traveling merchant puts his black diamond thing back into his backpack and then shoulders it. Resigned.

"Alright. Archard. Then so be it!" he huffs, but he leaves anyway. "You'll be sorry for refusing me rights to trade! I am Kamana the Opulent Merchant. You better remember that name!"

"That's one weird kid," the guards comment.

"Voorchard, he said!"

"No one ever goes in there and comes back."

"But what about the black thing?"

"It could be just a charcoal for all I know."

"Yeah."

"And where were we?"

"Ridding one's powers might lead to one's demise and the future of the World?"

"Ah, right!"

--

There were five Pillars, built upon five sealed demons. The demons enticed the guardians of the Pillars by granting them Otherworldly gifts. One was bestowed ethereal beauty. One incomparable wit. One matchless strength. One infinite wealth. And one the sight to the future.

Those gifts were the door that unleashed evil into the World. The seeds of destruction festered deep into the Earth, accumulating as time passed. By the time the Earth can no longer hold the heralds of inescapable ruin, that is when the World will end.