The story opens on a desolate battlefield stretching far beyond the horizon, where the earth lies blackened and cracked, and the air hangs heavy with the scent of ash and loss. Ragged banners, singed and tattered, flap weakly in a dying wind that carries whispers of forgotten wars. Charred corpses lie scattered in grim tableaux—fallen warriors frozen mid-fall, faces locked in silent screams. At the heart of this devastation stands a boy no older than seventeen, cloaked in swirling flames that coil and dance around his slender form like living serpents. His eyes burn with a fierce golden light, bright and unyielding, commanding the fire as if it were an extension of his very soul. Behind him, the ruins of a once-glorious citadel crumble into dust, a monument to a kingdom lost in flame and shadow.
From the depths of that smoky vision, a voice emerges—ancient and resonant, neither wholly human nor divine, but something that carries the weight of judgment and sorrow. It speaks softly yet with undeniable power: "You burned kingdoms for peace… and still, they called you a monster." The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation and regret.
Suddenly, the vision shatters. Kai Orin gasps awake in a cramped, dusty dormitory at St. Kareth's Academy—an enigmatic school hidden on Earth, tasked with monitoring interdimensional anomalies and safeguarding the fragile borders between worlds. Sweat drenches his skin, his breath comes ragged and shallow, and though the room is chilled, an intense heat burns from deep within him. For a fleeting moment, his eyes flicker with that same golden fire seen in the vision before fading back to their natural shade. Kai struggles to steady his racing heart, but he knows this was no ordinary nightmare. It was a memory—dormant and dangerous—trying to claw its way back to the surface.
Throughout the day, strange things ripple through the academy's halls like an unseen storm. Students whisper behind closed doors as Kai passes, their eyes flicking with a mix of fear and curiosity. Machines designed to detect Rift energy falter and glitch when he nears, lights flickering like a pulse. Teachers avoid meeting his gaze, their expressions tight with unspoken concern. The Soul Scanner—an artifact meant to measure and contain such energies—malfunctions completely, its readings distorted and erratic whenever Kai approaches. Confusion and unease coil inside him, the boundary between his waking world and the vision growing thinner by the hour.
That night, alone in his sparse dorm room, Kai stares into a cracked mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. The reflection stares back—at first, a tired boy with haunted eyes. But slowly, the image warps and shifts. The mirror's surface ripples like dark water, revealing a terrifying truth beneath: a crowned man, his eyes blazing with unholy light, and flame-like tattoos snaking down his neck in intricate patterns of power and pain. The man's lips curl into a cruel, knowing smile—the smile of the Tyrant King. The reflection is not just an image, but a promise, a warning that the past is far from buried, and the fire within Kai is ready to rise again.