The sun had not yet risen, but the Asura Clan's Sacred Pavilion blazed with torchlight and the hum of anticipation. Stone steps carved into the mountainside led thousands of clan members and guests to the Awakening Grounds—a circular platform surrounded by pillars carved with ancient symbols of ki, war, and blood.
Today marked the first Awakening Ceremony in ten years. And with the Heavenly Divine Sword Clan watching from their elevated platform, the pressure was more than ceremonial—it was political.
At the center stood the Awakening Altar, a slab of black stone that pulsed faintly with ancient qi. Around it, sixty-seven clan youths—each seventeen—stood in silent lines. The air was cold, but their robes were soaked in sweat.
Kuro stood at the far end of the line, draped in the same black robes with crimson trim, but unlike the others, he stood alone. Whispers from the crowd drifted like poison.
> "Still surprised the Clan Head let him participate."
> "He'll awaken nothing. That boy has no spiritual root."
> "They say he was born on a cursed night."
He didn't react. His eyes were half-lidded, his hands at his side, breath steady.
The 9th Elder, Genkai, stepped forward, staff in hand.
> "Today," he announced, voice clear and firm, "you face the altar. You will awaken your Divine Body and your Ki Hands. The more hands you awaken, the higher your potential. The color determines your path."
The youths nodded.
But before the first was called, another voice boomed across the stone stage.
> "And what will determine the path of one with no hands?"
It was an elder from the Heavenly Divine Sword Clan, cloaked in silver robes. Behind him, their prodigy Tirath stood calmly, arms crossed. At his side hung a blade—its hilt forged from starlight steel.
> "Let us see how your fallen monsters compare to our sword-bearers."
The insult hung heavy. Clan Head Daizen, Kuro's father, seated on a high platform, said nothing. His face was unreadable.
> "Let the ceremony begin," Genkai declared, ignoring the mockery.
One by one, the clan's youths stepped onto the altar. A flash of light. A ripple of ki. And from their backs emerged glowing spiritual arms—Ki Hands.
> The first boy awakened two gray hands.
> The second, three yellow hands.
> A girl awakened four green ones, drawing polite claps from the elders.
Each awakening brought cheers or murmurs. Some had red hands, others white. One boy, the son of the 3rd Elder, awakened six blue hands—impressive enough to draw nods from the Divine Sword guests.
> "At least one has spine," one elder muttered.
By the time Raiken, the 4th son of the Clan Head, stepped forward, the energy in the air buzzed with expectation. His awakening lit up the altar—six golden hands, shining bright and sharp.
> "Excellent," a voice called. "He could reach Heaven Pulse before twenty."
Raiken bowed with smug pride. His gaze flicked to Kuro, a cruel smirk on his lips.
Now, only one youth remained.
> "Kuro," Elder Genkai called. "Come forth."
The crowd quieted, like air being sucked from a room.
Kuro stepped forward. The altar felt cold beneath his bare feet. As he placed his hand on the stone, the surface pulsed—then trembled.
> Thump.
> Thump.
A low hum filled the mountain.
The sky dimmed. A dark mist rose from the altar, curling like serpents around Kuro's body. The crowd gasped as the first Ki Hand exploded into view—black, veined with red lightning-like lines.
Then a second. A third. Fourth. Fifth…
Ten.
Ten Ki Hands.
All black.
All marked with glowing red sigils.
The Divine Sword Clan stirred uneasily. Even Tirath narrowed his eyes.
"Black hands...?" an elder whispered. "But ten?"
A roar of murmuring surged. The elders of the Asura Clan stood abruptly. The altar groaned under pressure. Wind howled through the floating cliffs.
Then—
..... CRACK!
Eight of the hands shattered like glass. Only two remained—flickering, unstable, as if caught between realms.
The mist vanished. The light dimmed.
Kuro stood still, expression unchanged.
> "What... what happened?" someone shouted.
> "He awakened ten! We saw them!"
> "Then why did they vanish?!"
Elder Genkai's eyes trembled. "Ten black hands... with red patterns... and then eight were erased. Suppressed by something ancient."
From above, a chuckle echoed.
> "Typical of the Asura Clan," mocked a Divine Sword elder. "A child of monsters awakens cursed hands... and even they abandon him."
Laughter followed. Tirath said nothing, but his sword trembled faintly at his side.
The ceremony concluded in silence.
Kuro turned, walking back to his place without a word, his remaining hands fading into invisibility.
But as he passed the altar, the stone glowed again—for only a heartbeat.
A symbol flared—one unseen by any.
A blood-red eye.
Watching.
Waiting.