The sun dipped low behind the hills as a boy with messy black hair and a worn-out blue backpack sprinted along a quiet dirt path. His eyes shimmered with hope, and a smile tugged at his face. A paper—an acceptance letter—peeked from the open zip of his bag.
"Mom! Dad!" he shouted, bursting through the front door of a small, two-storey house nestled far away from the city, surrounded by nothing but trees and silence. "I finally made it! I got into AIIMS!" he laughed breathlessly, clutching the letter.
The house was too quiet.
He walked into the guest room, still grinning—until his eyes fell on something that froze the breath in his lungs. Blood.
The walls were stained, the floor drenched. Two still bodies lay in the middle of the room.
"M... Mom?" he whispered. "Dad...?"
His smile vanished.
The acceptance letter slipped from his hand like a leaf in the wind. His legs gave in, and he collapsed to his knees. His breath stuttered. His eyes were wide, hollow, trying to blink away the scene in front of him.
He couldn't cry. The pain went deeper than tears.
Then—laughter.
Not human laughter.
Unnatural. Sick. Gurgling giggles rising from the backyard.
His ears twitched. Something deep inside him snapped.
He staggered to his feet and ran to a tall wooden case on the wall. Hands trembling, he opened it. Inside was a blade—a family heirloom. An ancient Japanese katana once used by a legendary Hunter. It was pristine, untouched by time.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt. He pulled it free, the blade whispering against the sheath.
He stepped outside.
Four figures stood in the backyard. Their skin was pale, their smiles stretched unnaturally wide, mouths frozen in joy, even as their eyes were void. They twitched like broken puppets.
One of them turned.
Then they all charged.
Kyron's blood boiled. His rage exploded, no longer contained. He roared, swinging the katana with raw fury.
Steel met flesh.
He slashed, but they regenerated instantly, their wounds bubbling back together like melted wax.
Kyron's scream echoed like thunder. A red aura burst from his body—hot, violent, flaring like fire.
This time, when he attacked, they didn't get up.
Each strike carried the weight of his broken heart, his shattered dreams, his disbelief. The katana sang. Smilers fell.
When the last one collapsed, the air stilled. Kyron stood alone, body trembling, blood dripping down his arms.
The katana fell from his hands.
He dropped to his knees, breathing hard, staring at the soaked earth. The blade reflected his face—half-covered in blood, eyes no longer boyish.
He whispered, "I need answers. I can't accept this. I won't let their deaths mean nothing."
He buried his parents with his own hands.
That night, he packed everything—emotion technique books, old research papers, cash, food, and IDs. He shouldered the same backpack that once carried a dream. Now, it carried a mission.
He walked into the forest, each step heavy, his hands tightly gripping a book titled The Fundamentals of Emotion Techniques.
Hours passed.
As he flipped pages, trying to make sense of the words, he heard it—steel clashing against steel. Screams. Roars.
He followed the noise.
In a clearing, a towering green Smiler stood, muscles bulging, eyes mad. It was nearly three meters tall—its body like a rotted hulk of flesh. Two figures battled it—a boy and a girl.
The girl was hurled through the air like a ragdoll, landing near Kyron with a groan. She looked up, coughed, and snapped, "Hey! Aren't you seeing what's happening? Help us out, you lazy Hunter!"
Kyron blinked. "I—"
"No time for I! Take your sword out and move!" she yelled, getting to her feet.
Kyron gasped. His grip tightened on the katana.
He ran forward.
The boy shouted, "Me and Riya will paralyze him—go for the heart!"
The girl—Riya—radiated a glowing pink aura. The boy's was a chilling navy blue. Love and Fear. Their strikes confused and weakened the beast, halting its wild charges.
Kyron's aura surged red once more—Anger igniting like wildfire. He leapt high and drove the blade straight into the Smiler's heart.
It howled.
And then, silence.
The monster fell.
Panting, Kyron looked at the two.
The boy offered a hand. "You handled that well. I'm Arnav. That loudmouth's Riya."
Riya scoffed, brushing leaves off her dress. "You're welcome."
Kyron gave a faint smile, still catching his breath. "I'm Kyron."
A new journey had begun. But his heart still carried ashes.
And fire.