Illyria was a city of modern architecture that many expected to become the new capital of the world in the near future. Sol Badguy, a bounty hunter that hunted Gears—biological weapons—visited the city at the request of an acquaintance as winter approached, just as the year was drawing to a close.

“I think he's in the cathedral down the street.”

The woman Sol was talking to concluded her directions, “Please, my husband…”

She bowed her head deeply and her long hair, which was tied up with ribbons, swayed and fell down her back.

“What a pain in the ass…”

With a sour look, Sol retorted with indifference. He was not in a particularly bad mood and anyone who knew him would feel this behavior was no different than usual.

“...Who's the brat?”

Sol said, shifting his gaze downward. He meant the boy who was hiding behind the woman's skirt and looking up at him fearfully. The boy was about three or four years old based on his appearance. He had pale golden hair, porcelain-white skin, a well-defined nose, and a light green left eye. The boy's clothes fit him elegantly. In one of his small hands he was holding the woman's skirt, and in the other he was carefully holding a stuffed animal as big as his face. If Sol had not had prior knowledge that he was a boy, he might have mistaken him for a girl. The boy's overly-groomed appearance gave the impression that he was somewhat out of touch with the lives of normal people. In the harmony of such comprehensive beauty, there was one detail that stood out and caught Sol's attention. It was the boy's right eye.

An eye patch was worn over the boy's right eye, as if concealing something sinister. It was eerily serious, with only that one spot in particular out of balance with the artistic harmony of the rest of the boy's image. For a moment, Sol forgot to blink and stared at it. Perhaps concerned by Sol's gaze, the little boy, who was too young to even be called a child, looked away and plunged himself deeper into his mother's shadow.

“...Yes, he's my...no, he's our child. We had him about six months ago.”

Sol was convinced. The boy was already as tall as his mother's waist, too big to have been born only six months ago. Of course, this was impossible at the normal rate of human growth. The mother's expression faded. Normally, this would be the happiest moment in a woman's life. However, she was not in a position that allowed her to enjoy that happiness.

Sol's steps were heavy on the cobblestones. It was late afternoon and the high-end residential part of the city he was in was empty of crowds. The smoke from a passing house tickled his nose—perhaps people inside were preparing lunch. He turned down an intricate alleyway and soon the view opened up. A stone structure laid ahead.

He opened the wooden door and stepped inside. The building's dark interior spread out before him, and the air felt drier than that of the world outside. There was a small amount of light coming in from above through ornate stained glass windows set in the stone walls.

When Sol turned his gaze back towards the front, he saw a statue of the Virgin just below. There, facing the statue of the Virgin, was a young man kneeling down on one knee in prayer. There was no one else in sight. Beside the young man was his beloved sword.

How many years since I last saw him? The last time was... While Sol was thinking about it, the young man noticed his footsteps and turned his head to look back at him.

“...Sol?"

The words were said with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Their gazes met. After a moment, Sol inhaled sharply and frowned. The man's face was far removed from that of the Ky Kiske that he had known. His cheeks had lost their color, his lips were dry and cracked, and dark circles lay under his eyes, which seemed to have lost their light. And, above all, he was wearing an eye patch over his right eye, just as the child Sin had been wearing earlier.

“Hm… I get it now…”

Sol said to him, intentionally letting his disgust show. Ky did not respond. There was silence for a while, and a frigid calm enveloped the two of them. Ky was the first to break the silence when the dry air shook as the cathedral's bell rang to announce the time.

“Why… are you here?”

He was thirsty, and spoke as if he had to force the words out.

“Your God begged me to do this. Apparently your confession's taking too long.”

“What do you… mean?"

Ky muttered as if trying to dismiss the idea.

But before he could say anything more, Sol closed the distance between them and attempted to deliver a heavy punch to Ky's body. Ky quickly rolled to his side and avoided the attack.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“You've become even more disgusting than before…”

“Are you kidding me!”

Ky vigorously leapt off the floor and reached for Sol's arm. Sol, without moving, grabbed Ky's arm first before it reached him.

“You… You don't understand my justice!”

Ky shouted at him as if the words were difficult to say, perhaps second guessing himself.

“I'm not interested in your damn justice!”

Sol's greatsword cleaved through the air horizontally. Ky quickly blocked the attack with his own sword, Thunderseal. The two swords clashed violently, sending sparks flying and a roar reverberating through the cathedral.

“Alright, I'll play with you. So, you better come at me with everything you've got!”

Ky bit his lip and clenched his fist. His sword crackled with lightning. A electricity—Sol repelled Ky's attack with ease, unimpressed.

“Your confession starts here!”

After clashing swords numerous times, the two backed off from each other. Most of Ky's attacks were avoided, repelled, and, in some cases, counterattacked. Ky was not in good physical or mental condition to begin with. Unable to hide his fatigue, he leaned back against his precious sword and exhaled. Sol, on the other hand, was unperturbed and showed no signs of fatigue.

“What's wrong? You finished already?”

“...I'm still… still…”

Ky, panting, rallied his energy and stood back up again. Sweat glistened on his forehead and dripped off his face, which was beginning to have color in it again. His eyes were beginning to shine again.

“Are you feeling a little better? Heh, it's not enough!”

Sol raised his massive sword and Ky readied himself in response. Sol took a big step forward. A moment after he swung his sword…

“S-Stop!”

Something clung to his feet, something that stood out in sharp contrast to the bleak and brutal environment.

“...Sin?!”

“Damn brat. What's the deal?”

Sin clung desperately to Sol's leg, refusing to let go of his hand.

“Papa... I hate you… I hate you! But if Papa gets beat up, Mom will be sad. I won't forgive anyone who… who makes Mom cry!”

“I see. You ain't scared of me, kid?”

It was obvious that he was afraid of Sol. Sin looked like he was about to start crying. The hand holding the stuffed animal trembled slightly.

“I'm scared. But… I won't forgive you!”

Sin said as he bravely stood up to the big man more than twice his size.

The sword fell from Ky's hand and hit the floor. Tears overflowed from his right eye and trickled down his cheek.

“Jeez… Even your son is better than you, huh?”

Sol scratched his head.

"Sol... I need you to do something for me.”

"...What is it?"

“Can you take care of my son... Sin, for a while?”

"...Huh?”

"I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

Sol was caught off guard by this unexpected offer and was uncharacteristically flustered.

Sin looked at the two adults alternately, whether he understood their conversation or not, and compared the two of them.

Then Sol asked back, “...That's your solution then?”

“Well...no, no. But give me some time. Until I create a world where my child and wife can laugh..."

Ky answered without hesitation. Sol smiled wryly.

“You're not going to complain about how he grows up, will you?"