Raizen stood at the edge of a jagged cliff, the wind howling through the trees behind him. His crew had made landfall on an island shrouded in mist, its eerie silence broken only by the occasional crashing of waves against the rocky shore. The island was notorious for its secrecy, a place no one dared to visit — governed by the Justicars, a covert group of elite executioners working in the shadows of the World Government.
He had come here on the word of a mysterious informant, a shadowy figure whose motivations remained unclear. The message had been cryptic, but the promise of vital information — about the next move of the World Government, and the possible survival of his mother — had drawn Raizen in. Now, standing on the precipice of danger, he felt the weight of every secret buried on this island.
The Justicars were ruthless, their presence felt through whispered rumors and cold, blood-soaked tales. They were the ones sent to erase those who knew too much or posed too much of a threat to the Government's power. To even be marked by their blade was to sign one's death sentence. And Raizen, a living symbol of rebellion, was a prime target.
As Raizen descended into the heart of the island, the fog thickened, and his senses heightened. Every step he took seemed to echo louder than the last. His crew kept a safe distance, unwilling to step foot into the heart of such danger. They knew that here, they were mere pawns in a game larger than themselves.
The island's dark architecture loomed ahead — twisted towers with jagged spires reaching toward the sky, resembling skeletal fingers clawing at the heavens. The Justicars were notorious for their brutal tactics, but the silence of the island spoke volumes. It was as if the island itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Raizen's mind raced as he thought about the informant's message: "The truth lies beneath the blades of the Justicars."
Beneath their blades? What truth could possibly remain in the hands of such executioners? What could they have learned — or hidden — that even the World Government feared to reveal?
Before he could process his thoughts any further, a shadow darted across his path, and a figure stepped out from the mist. Cloaked in dark robes, the informant was a silhouette of mystery. Their voice, barely a whisper, broke the silence.
"They know you're coming," the informant said, their tone cold and calm. "The Justicars are already waiting, and they've prepared something... just for you."
Raizen's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Who are you really?"
The figure did not answer. Instead, they raised a hand, pointing to the distant spires of the Justicars' fortress.
"Your past... your mother's legacy... it's all bound to this place. But be warned, Raizen. Not everything is as it seems. The Justicars don't just execute — they erase. Erase memories. Erase truth. And they are about to erase you."
With that cryptic warning, the figure disappeared into the fog, leaving Raizen alone with his thoughts.
Raizen clenched his fists, the weight of the situation sinking in. The Justicars were not just agents of the World Government. They were the keepers of secrets — the ones who ensured that the past, however dark, stayed buried. But what had they uncovered about his family? What truths had they erased from the world, and why was he now drawn into their twisted game?
There was no turning back now. Raizen took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. He would face whatever awaited him on this island. For the truth. For his mother. For the future of the world.
With one last glance at his crew, Raizen moved forward, stepping deeper into the unknown, where lies whispered in the shadows were about to become truths — and where the fate of everything he fought for would be decided.
The Justicars were waiting.
And so was the truth.
END OF CHAPTER1