THE BEGINNING OF EVERYTHING
The city was plunged into chaos. Amid the rubble and fallen bodies, a soldier dragged himself along, barely conscious. With each step, his breathing grew more ragged. He looked ahead, his vision blurred by pain and fear.
—Help me... p-please... —he said weakly, extending a trembling hand toward the figure approaching.
Raizen, standing in the shadows, watched without flinching. There was no compassion in his eyes, only the cold determination that characterized him. In the blink of an eye, he advanced and, without hesitation, ended the soldier's life. The body fell, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.
Raizen remained silent, his gaze lost in the desolation around him.
5 YEARS AGO
In the year 897, in the territory of Souka, under the rule of the Souka Empire, poverty, hunger, inequality, and injustice suffocated the people. Amid this suffering, a warrior named Takeshi Arasaka rose in rebellion, leading a group of brave souls with the dream of overthrowing the empire and forging a new era of justice, though many saw it as an impossible cause.
Clad in imposing golden armor, shining as if made of solid gold, and with gray eyes reflecting unshakable determination, Takeshi challenged the imperial king. Thus began the Imperial War, a conflict that would change the fate of the nation.
1 YEAR AFTER THE WAR
A boy stumbled along the dusty roads of Souka. His clothes were torn, his body covered in wounds, and his white hair, streaked with striking red, fell messily over his face. His red eyes, intense like burning embers, reflected as much pain as they did unwavering will.
Despite his fragile, emaciated body, each step brought him closer to the heart of Takeshi's army. He knew that only those over 18 could join the cause, but that wouldn't stop him. He had come with a purpose, and nothing would make him turn back.
—I want to join the army —the boy said, his voice firm.
The soldiers laughed among themselves and quickly reported to Takeshi. He came out to meet the boy, surprised by his audacity.
—Kid, you can't join the army! I don't want to see kids here! I won't let you get hurt! —Takeshi exclaimed, his voice full of energy and intimidation, but with an underlying concern. The boy stared at him unwaveringly, without fear.
—I don't care about getting hurt. No one would care about me. Let me enlist —he replied, his gaze full of determination.
Takeshi, though used to dealing with brave young people, had never seen one with such determination. His face softened for a moment, but he quickly regained his serious expression.
—I'll send you to live with some farmers so you don't get hurt. I won't let you be harmed in the army —Takeshi said, waving his hand as if dismissing the boy.
But the next day, the boy came back. And the day after that, and the day after that. Takeshi, frustrated and amazed, couldn't help but relent.
—Alright, alright! I'll let you in, but it won't be easy, kid! This isn't a game! —Takeshi said, raising his voice as always, but now with a hint of respect. —How old are you?
—I'm 12, sir —the boy replied, his confidence and determination unchanged from the previous days.
Days passed, and each morning, the boy attended training without fail. His determination never wavered, and Takeshi watched with growing interest. Not only did he have a natural talent for fighting despite his frail body, but he also displayed an extraordinary ability: he could control fire with impressive fluidity, as though he had been born for it.
—Attention, soldiers! —Takeshi shouted with a firm voice, his gaze full of confidence—. Tomorrow we face a crucial battle to take the Bulrad Fortress! I only have one thing to say to you all! Survive! Don't do it for me, do it for yourselves! Live!
His shout echoed across the ranks, igniting the determination within the soldiers for the battle that awaited them.
The battle at the Bulrad front had begun. Soldiers clashed swords over and over, the sound of steel ringing out across the battlefield. Among them, the boy fought with astonishing agility, moving with deadly precision while using his extraordinary ability. However, he wasn't the only warrior standing out in the fight.
Among the soldiers was Denia, one of the few women who had joined the fight. Short in stature, with short brown hair and large, determined eyes, Denia stood out not only for her appearance but also for the way she moved on the battlefield. Her movements were unbelievably fast and precise, almost impossible to execute, but there she was, dodging and striking with superhuman skill.
The boy, fascinated by her abilities, approached to offer his support.
—I'll be your backup, ma'am! —he exclaimed, determined.
Denia looked at him and nodded with a fleeting smile.
—Thanks, soldier! See that giant tower over there? We need to get to it —she said firmly.
They quickly headed toward the tower, where the enemy's main weapons were located. Their goal was clear: destroy them at all costs. But before they could get any closer, an imposing man, over two meters tall and wearing the imperial uniform, appeared in front of them. A deep scar ran through his eye.
—Who's there? Answer me! —the man demanded in a deep voice.
Denia and the boy froze for a moment. They realized something surprising: the man was blind. Without hesitation, Denia drew her sword, ready to strike, but the boy stopped her.
—Right now, the weapons are more important —he whispered in her ear.
Before they could react, the giant leaped forward and, with terrifying speed, sliced off Denia's arm. She screamed in pain as she dropped to her knees. The boy, eyes blazing with fury, used his power to push the enemy away.
—Kid, get out of here! I'll handle this bastard —Denia said, gritting her teeth as blood poured from her wound.
—You're hurt! You can't take him on! —the boy replied, his voice filled with determination.
—You're crazy! That's no ordinary old man! —she shouted, desperate.
The man, tired of hearing them, attacked with monstrous speed. If it hadn't been for Denia, they both would have been dead in that moment. With one last look of determination, she shoved the boy away.
—Kid, destroy the weapons! I'll deal with this guy! —she yelled, her expression full of unwavering confidence.
The boy hesitated for a moment.
—Promise me you'll survive! —he demanded, his voice breaking.
Denia gave him a defiant smile.
—Who do you think I am to die here? I'm from the Arasaka rebel army, and I won't allow any more injustices! —she shouted, a mix of anger, sadness, and determination in her voice.
Raizen clenched his fists and ran toward the tower. He raised his hands, and with a shout of fury, unleashed a raging firestorm. The flames engulfed the structure, melting the metal and reducing the wood to ashes.
When he finished, he ran back to where he had left Denia, but it was too late. Her body lay on the ground with a sword stuck in her chest.
The boy stopped, paralyzed by the sight. Feeling a lump form in his throat, he approached and fell to his knees beside her.
—Kid... tell me your name —Denia whispered weakly.
—My name's Raizen —he replied, tears streaming down his face.
Though he had barely known her, he wept for his ally. In that moment, he understood the cruelty of war.
Denia smiled faintly.
—I wish I'd gotten to know you better, Raizen... but my time's come. Listen, in war, many will die, so don't worry... this is normal. Death comes for us all. So please... live with a smile on your face. If not, you'd already be dead inside. Without a smile, you're just an empty shell... —her voice trembled as a tear slid down her cheek.
Denia looked toward the battlefield.
—That old man's already out there... —she whispered, with the last bit of strength she had.
Raizen swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears. Denia pulled out a blood-stained letter and handed it to him.
—Raizen... give this to my family. I wish I could talk to them one last time... tell them I was okay... hahaha... —her laugh was a soft, melancholic whisper.
Raizen, deeply moved, placed his hands on his face and moved his lips to make it look like he was smiling. He gently closed Denia's eyes and, with his heart burning with rage and sorrow, stood up.
With fury in his eyes, he headed toward the battlefield. It was time to face the man who had killed his ally.