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CLASS 24

NESSGEE_COMICS
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Synopsis
Long time ago, ten legendary beings known as the Guardians of Magic were the first to awaken supernatural powers. Their abilities became the blueprint of all magic in the world. But one of them, the Guardian Flame, fell into darkness, transforming into a monstrous being called the Beast. After a cataclysmic war, the Beast was sealed away, and the Guardians perished. Since then, their power has lived only in fragments, spread across humanity — until fire disappeared completely. Centuries later, Nesshou Genta, a loud and reckless teenager, lives a carefree life with his grandfather. On his sixteenth birthday, he undergoes the Awakening — a rite where everyone discovers their supernatural ability. But Genta’s results shock everyone: the tests register absolutely nothing. No energy. No spark. No classification. The last time this happened was with the Flame Guardian himself. Before the clinic can react, alarms blare. Security moves to detain Genta, labeling him a “Class Z anomaly.” But his grandfather reveals his hidden ability — the Paralysis Eye — and fights their way out. As they flee, his grandfather admits the truth: Genta may have awakened the power of the Flame Sovereign, the most dangerous of the Originals. Soon after, they are confronted by black-armored soldiers and a powerful commander. His grandfather fights valiantly but is overwhelmed. In the heat of desperation, Genta’s body erupts with uncontrollable fire — a living inferno that annihilates soldiers, cracks the earth, and forces even the commander to acknowledge the truth: the Flame lives again. Terrified yet awed, his grandfather warns him that the world will hunt him down. Genta faints, consumed by the awakening of powers too ancient and volatile to control. When he awakens, he is in the hands of Kurogane Daichi, a member of the Secret Society of Unique Beings (SSUB) — a hidden organization that shelters and trains those with dangerous or misunderstood powers. Daichi offers him a choice: join SSUB and survive, or remain a target. Reluctantly, Genta follows him, though haunted by fears of what happened to his grandfather. Within SSUB’s underground fortress, Genta is introduced to other recruits — including the mysterious Yami Ibuki, who already knows of his identity as “the Flame.” Together with Ibuki, Reiji, Kurai, and Hanari, he is placed into Class 24, under the eccentric teacher Shiratori Kenzo. But suspicions, rivalries, and secrets run deep. As Genta begins his new life, he faces the crushing weight of a legacy tied to destruction. The world believes fire should never return. And yet, within him burns the same flame that once betrayed humanity. The question now: will he control the fire… or will it consume him?
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Chapter 1 - WHERE IT ALL BEGAN  

"NESSHOU! GET READY, WE'RE GOING TO THE DOCTOR!"

That was Grandpa. Subtle as a thunderstorm, as usual.

"I've been ready since forever!" I yelled back, already hopping over the banister.

I didn't walk down the stairs. Oh no. That's too boring. I launched myself over the rail and slid down the wooden frame like I was on a skateboard made of speed and bad decisions.

"BOOYAH!"

And then I hit the floor.

Face first.

A loud thud echoed through the house as I groaned from the cold tile's betrayal. Grandpa appeared in the hallway, staring down at me with his classic disapproving frown that somehow always looked impressed underneath.

"Idiot," he muttered.

"Ready for action!" I saluted from the floor, still not moving.

He sighed and turned around. "You're going to break every bone in your body before your magic even shows up."

"Then I'll heal it with style," I grinned.

And just like that, we were off. Me, the future number one. Even if I had to trip, fall, and scream my way there.

The sun was blazing, but that didn't stop me from beaming even brighter. I stuck my head out the car window, letting the wind slap against my face like I was in some action scene. My grandpa kept telling me to get back in before I flew off like a kite, but I just laughed it off. I mean, come on, today was the day. My Sixteenth Bloom.

I don't really think too much about what kind of ability I'll get. Whether it's weak or weird or wild—doesn't matter. I'll still be number one. That's what I've always believed. That's what I told everyone.

We passed by the old shrine on the hill—the one they say hasn't lit up in decades. I always liked that place. Even though people call it cursed or haunted or "home of the sealed flame," or whatever. I just think it looks cool.

The drive didn't take long. The bloom clinic wasn't some flashy building with giant glowing signs. It was actually kind of boring. Small place, just behind the main road, with a tree so big it looked like it had been there since the world began. Still, the moment I saw it, my heart started racing.

Maybe I wasn't nervous, but I was...expectant.

Grandpa pulled the car into the lot, adjusted his glasses like he always did, and looked at me.

"You ready?"

"I was born ready!"

He gave me that half-smile that said, you're reckless, but I love you anyway. Then we stepped out.

Inside the clinic, it smelled like tea and old books. A lady in a light blue coat handed me a clipboard and smiled politely, like she hadn't seen kids explode into lightning or vanish into smoke right in front of her eyes before.

Grandpa did the talking. I just bounced on my heels and looked around at the framed photos of all the kids who had bloomed. Wind types. Ice types. Vine types. That one kid who turned into a metal statue for two minutes—legendary.

No flame types.

Not one.

They don't really talk about them anymore. Some say they're dangerous. Others say they were wiped out. Me? I just thought fire was cool.

The nurse finally called my name.

Grandpa and I were led through a narrow hallway, where the lights flickered a little too much to be comforting. The doors all looked the same — silver frames, glass panels, that weird faint hum like magic was always in the air but didn't want to be noticed.

We stopped at a room labeled "B-3." The nurse gave us a polite nod and vanished like she didn't want to be around for what was about to happen.

 

Inside, the walls were covered in runes and moving diagrams. It looked like someone took a spellbook and made it digital. In the center sat a long table and an orb — smooth, glassy, and pulsing gently like a heartbeat. A man in a long dark coat stood beside it, arms folded.

"Ah. Genta, yes?" he said. "Take a seat. We'll begin shortly."

Grandpa gave me a look. You know the look — that half-warning, half-don't embarrass me kind of stare.

I sat down across from the orb. It looked harmless. Kind of like a crystal ball, but less evil-witchy and more science-fair.

"Let's begin the diagnostics," the man said, already tapping at his floating screen. "Eight scans in total. Don't move your hand unless I say so."

Easy. I placed my hand on the orb.

It lit up faintly… then dimmed. Nothing happened.

"Hm. Resetting," he muttered.

Test 1: No reaction.

Test 2: Orb buzzed, then gave a little hiccup and shut down again.

Test 3: A low pulse, like a false start — but still no data.

Test 4: A gentle spark. The doctor leaned in… and then it fizzled out like a wet matchstick.

Test 5: The orb actually turned black for a second. Even the doctor looked confused.

Test 6: "Might be interference," he said. "Try clearing your mind."

I thought of noodles. Didn't help.

Test 7: Nothing.

Test 8: The orb shook. Just for a second. Then stopped.

All eight tests. All failed.

The screen blinked red. The graphs were empty. Not a single trait. No classification. Not even a power type.

The man stared at the results, then back at me. Then at the orb.

"This… doesn't happen."

"Is that bad?" I asked, already grinning.

Grandpa leaned forward. "We done here?"

The man didn't answer. He pressed something under the table, subtle — like a hidden alert. I saw his hand move. Grandpa did too.

Then the doctor said, in the calmest tone possible, "Just one moment. I'll need to call in a specialist for verification. There might be an anomaly."

Grandpa stood up instantly.

"No need."

"I insist. It's protocol for undocumented—" The doctor replied

"Not your decision," Grandpa said, grabbing my shoulder.

"But the results are inconclusive—"

"And if you call the wrong people, we won't get a chance to explain anything."

I didn't understand what was going on, but I knew one thing: Grandpa was serious now.

He turned to me. "Get your things."

Then he shoved open the door.

Behind us, I heard the doctor's voice, low and tense.

"Activate Division Red. Possible Class Z anomaly. Subject 24…"

I didn't wait to hear the rest.

We were already running.

I barely had time to grab my bag before alarms screamed through the building.

Not loud ones — no, this was way worse. It was that low, eerie humming sound that crawled into your ears and made your skin itch. Lights flashed red across the ceiling. Doors started sealing. I glanced back—

The doctor was no longer alone.

Three security agents in black suits were already moving down the corridor. They weren't shouting. They weren't even running. Just moving fast. Smooth. Like they knew exactly what they were doing.

Grandpa didn't break stride.

We turned the corner, passed another row of doors. One opened ahead of us — more guards. I was about to shout when Grandpa reached into his coat and flicked a small metal pin from his collar. It glowed.

Then he turned his head — and I saw it.

His left eye.

It shifted — no, shimmered. Like glass catching sunlight. A ripple of blue energy blinked across the hallway like a silent explosion.

The two guards froze mid-step.

And I mean froze. One had his mouth open, mid-command. The other was reaching for something on his belt. Both were locked in place like someone hit pause on reality.

"What… was that?" I asked, breathless.

"Paralysis-type," Grandpa said without looking at me. "Keep moving."

"You could've told me you were cool!"

Another hallway. More guards.

This time, they were ready.

I ducked as a pulse bolt zipped past my ear and slammed into the wall behind us. The paint peeled. I definitely screamed a little.

Grandpa didn't slow down. He tapped the side of his glasses once — they lit up — and with a twist of his foot, he spun into a knee-slide across the tile, turned his head—

That eye flashed again.

Three more down.

Each time he used it, he grunted. Like it cost him something.

"How long can you keep doing that?" I asked as we rounded another corner.

"Not long. We've got to get outside."

The exit was just ahead — glass doors and two guards stationed in front. They raised their weapons. Grandpa didn't stop.

He shouted: "Close your eyes!"

I obeyed instinctively.

A blinding flash lit up the hall.

Even behind my eyelids, I felt it. Like staring into lightning. When I opened my eyes again, both guards were down — not hurt, just locked in mid-motion like statues.

We burst through the doors into the sunlight.

Outside, the air felt thick — like the sky itself was watching.

Grandpa yanked open the passenger door to his old silver car and practically threw me inside. He jumped in right after, slammed the gear into reverse, and we peeled out of the lot like a getaway scene from a low-budget action movie.

I was still breathing hard, heart pounding.

"…What was that about?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

He just looked in the rearview mirror… and said something that made my stomach drop.

"It can't be"

We didn't drive home.

Grandpa turned left at the old radio tower and kept going — past the train bridge, past the edge of the city, past the signs that said "No Entry Beyond This Point" like they were suggestions, not warnings.

We ended up in a wide, dry field. Dead grass. Cracked earth. No one around for miles.

He killed the engine.

Silence.

The car creaked as it settled into park. I expected him to say something, anything — maybe laugh it off, maybe shout. But he didn't.

He just opened the door and stepped out.

I followed.

The sun was starting to set now, casting long orange shadows across the abandoned land. Grandpa stood still for a second, then walked away from the car. Slow. Aimless.

 

Then he started pacing.

He didn't even know I was watching. His hands were shaking. He kept muttering things under his breath — not full sentences, just pieces.

"...It can't be..." "...not after all this time..." "...but the seal…" "No. No. No..."

Back and forth he went, like the wind was whispering secrets and he was trying to shut it out. I'd never seen him like that before. Not once.

I took a step forward. "Hey, Grandpa—"

He snapped around, eyes wide.

I flinched.

Then, softer he said "You... you don't feel anything, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

He stared at me like I was something ancient… something he didn't want to believe.

"…They said it was gone," he whispered. "I thought it was sealed forever."

I didn't understand what he was talking about. But one thing was clear — he wasn't just scared.

He was terrified.

He stood still. Then turned slowly, eyes wide.

"Eight tests," he whispered. "Eight scans… not a trace. Not a flicker of energy."

I shrugged. "Maybe I broke the machines?"

But he didn't laugh.

"You didn't break anything," he said. "You awakened something they thought was extinct."

He looked straight at me. "Do you know what it means, boy, when every test reads nothing? When the mana pulse refuses to react — when the Bloom doesn't speak?"

I stayed quiet.

"It's the same reading," he said slowly, "the same silence they got… from him."

He sat down heavily on the grass. The air around him felt different now. Heavy.

"There were ten," he said. "Before the powers spread, before the world became what it is now… there were ten Guardians. The first. The Originals. They didn't just have power — they were power."

He looked out into the sky.

"The first was the Flame Sovereign — Hi no Ō. He bore the beast-flame. A living fire that devoured even magic itself. He burned through skies and birthed creatures of destruction. But in the end… he turned. Betrayed the others. Tried to claim the world for himself."

"And so, the other nine rose against him."

His voice darkened.

"They sealed him away — at the cost of their lives."

He looked back at me.

"No one has seen a flame-type since that day… "

He let the silence hang. But I could feel it wasn't over.

I sat beside him. "Who were the others?"

He nodded slowly. "You should know… if the world is waking again."

He held up nine fingers, one by one:

"The Seer of Silence (静眼の者 – Seigan no Mono) — she saw through lies and time with her thirteen cursed eyes."

"The Phantom Strategist (影策の導士 – Eisaku no Dōshi) — master of mind games and blade."

"The Blooming Dancer (舞姫の輝 – Maihime no Kagayaki) — light and emotion flowed in her step."

"The Rift Reaper (裂界の影 – Rekkai no Kage) — lord of shadow and sound, silent and deadly."

Then his voice lowered.

"The Paralysis Gaze (封眼の覇者 – Fūgan no Hasha) — he who could freeze will and body with a glance. Your great-grandfather… my father… was his descendant."

He continued,

"The Dream Binder (夢縛の紡者 – Musubisha no Yumeshibari) — who could trap enemies in their own memories."

"The Beast Forger (獣造の王 – Jūzō no Ō) — creator of chimeras and living weapons."

"The Balance Keeper (均衡の主 – Kinkō no Aruji) — who could make all battles equal, no matter how strong."

"And the Mirror Apostle (鏡界の徒 – Kyōkai no To) — who could reflect attacks, identities, even destinies."

Grandpa took a long breath.

"They were legends. Heroes. Gods, to some."

"But the world buried them. Their names became myths. And their powers… faded."

"I don't know what's going on, but I pray I'm wrong"

 

 

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