Once, all humans were ordinary.
No powers. No magic. Just life as we knew it.
But then, everything changed.
A spark ignited.
Strange, unique humans began to emerge — each with abilities the world had never seen.
Soon, 99% of all humanity developed supernatural powers.
But these powers weren't random.
They traced back to the very first —
The original ten.
The first to awaken.
Known as the Guardians of Magic, each one possessed a unique trait.
Together, their abilities formed the blueprint of all supernatural power known today.
But not all power stayed in balance.
One of them turned.
The Guardian Flame — once a symbol of light and leadership — was cast out.
Consumed by bitterness and isolation, his power twisted and darkened.
In time, he became a creature of vengeance… a monstrous being known only as the Beast.
He returned with wrath, wielding corrupted power, determined to destroy the others.
The war that followed shook the world.
It ended with the Beast sealed away…
But the price was unimaginable.
The Guardians were gone. Every last one.
And though their essence lived on in the powers of generations,
The age of the originals had ended.
Years passed.
Legends faded.
Magic evolved.
But not a single fire-borne soul had risen again…
Until now
"Yo… I guess this is where I'm supposed to say my name, crack a dumb joke, and tell you about my normal Awakening day, right?
Yeah… that's not happening.
Name's Nesshou Genta. And my Awakening?
It didn't go the way it was supposed to.
See, for everyone else, turning sixteen is like a party — the Bloom, the magic, the cheers, the photos.
For me?
It was panic.
Shouting.
The kind of fear you can smell in the air.
I didn't wake up surrounded by friends.
I woke up surrounded by flames… and bodies.
They say everyone's magic shows up on the Bloom test.
Mine didn't.
Not a spark. Not a flicker. Nothing.
And yet… when it came, it came like it had been waiting for centuries to burn through me.
Now people are looking at me like I'm something that shouldn't exist.
Like I'm a mistake.
Like I'm dangerous.
Maybe they're right.
But if I'm a mistake…
I'm going to be the kind that no one can ignore."
When I woke up, the first thing I felt was the cold. Not the kind that made you shiver — the kind that sank into your bones. My eyes opened to see jagged rock above me, firelight flickering across the cave walls.
I sat up too fast, my head spinning. Across from me, a man sat by a small fire, slowly turning a skewer of meat. His coat was dark, heavy, and stitched with a strange emblem — two interlocking rings crossed by a sword.
I didn't care who he was.
"Where's my grandpa?"
The man didn't answer. Not right away. He just glanced at me, then back to the fire. "Eat something first."
"Don't mess with me! Where is he?!" My voice cracked, and I didn't care. My legs were tense, ready to run, ready to fight — ready to do anything but sit here.
The man's jaw tightened. "I don't know. When I got there, you were the only one alive. Barely breathing. The rest…" His words trailed off like they were too heavy to finish.
It felt like my chest caved in. The world tilted, and I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I stared at the dirt floor, willing him to take it back. But he didn't.
"You're wrong," I whispered. "He's… he's out there. He has to be."
The man looked at me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. "Maybe. But I saw that battlefield. If he's alive, he's not in one piece."
I turned my face away, but the tears burned their way out anyway. My fists trembled on my knees.
After a long silence, he spoke again. "My name is Kurogane Daichi. Battle Class 23. I'm with the Secret Society of Unique Beings — SSUB."
The words meant nothing to me, but the way he said them carried weight. My throat was tight. "…What is that?"
"An organization for people like you," he said simply. "The ones the world doesn't understand. The ones they call dangerous. We protect them. Train them. Give them a place to belong."
I let out a hollow, shaky laugh. "Belong? You think I can just… belong somewhere now?"
His gaze sharpened. "I think you don't have many places left to go. You awakened something the world thought was gone forever. That makes you a target. And trust me, I've seen what happens to targets."
I didn't reply. My thoughts kept drifting back to Grandpa — to the way he'd stood in front of me, eyes locked on that commander, ready to take every blow.
Daichi tossed me a canteen. "You can come with me to SSUB and figure out your next move in safety. Or… you can walk into the desert and let the world find you first."
I gripped the canteen but didn't drink. My voice was low. "If I go with you… it doesn't mean I'm giving up on him."
His expression softened, just slightly. "Then we leave at dawn."
The fire popped in the silence between us. I stayed awake the whole night, watching the flames twist and curl, wishing they could tell me where Grandpa was.
When morning came, Daichi was already geared up. I stood at the cave's edge, staring at the endless horizon, my chest aching with doubt. Then I followed him into the rising sun.
The desert morning was cold, the kind that bites at your skin even though the sun is already peeking over the horizon. My boots crunched against the hard-packed sand as I followed Daichi.
We didn't talk much at first. I didn't want to. My mind kept dragging me back to Grandpa — his voice, his laugh, the way he'd always pat my shoulder like I'd just done something amazing, even when it was stupid.
Daichi walked ahead with that soldier's posture, his coat flapping lightly with every step. The emblem stitched on the back — those two rings and the sword — seemed to glare at me every time I looked up.
"You're quiet," he said eventually, not even turning around.
"What do you want me to say?" I muttered.
He didn't answer right away. "Nothing. Just making sure you're still behind me."
We kept moving, climbing over a low ridge. From up there, I could see nothing but endless dunes and jagged rock in every direction. No towns. No roads. No sign of the world I knew.
"That place we're going," I finally said, "SSUB or whatever… is it far?"
"Far enough," Daichi replied. "It's not on any map. It's not meant to be found unless we want you to find it."
I frowned. "Creepy."
"Safe," he corrected.
Somewhere behind us, the wind shifted, carrying with it the faintest echo of… something. Footsteps? Whispers? I spun around, scanning the ridge we'd just crossed, but the sands were empty.
"You keep looking back," Daichi said.
"Thought I heard something."
He didn't dismiss it. Just adjusted his pace, eyes flicking to the horizon like he was checking for trouble.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, burning the cold away and replacing it with the dry heat of the desert. I was just starting to think we'd been walking forever when Daichi stopped at a rocky outcrop.
"This is it," he said.
I looked around. "This? It's a rock."
"Watch."
He stepped forward, pressing his palm to the largest stone. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the rock shimmered — like heat on asphalt — and a seam of light traced its surface before the entire thing split open, revealing a narrow passage descending into darkness.
"Welcome to SSUB," he said, stepping inside.
I hesitated, staring into that black corridor. Every instinct told me not to go in… but there was nothing left for me out here. So I followed.
The door closed behind us with a sound like the world sealing shut.
The tunnel twisted downward for what felt like forever, the air growing cooler with each step. The faint hum of hidden machinery echoed off the stone, though I couldn't see any wires, lights, or vents.
Finally, the darkness gave way to a faint glow ahead — and then, suddenly, space opened up.
I stepped into a vast underground chamber, my breath catching in my throat.
The place was… massive. The ceiling arched high above, carved right into the rock, with steel beams and glass walkways suspended like bridges in midair. Pools of pale blue light rippled along the walls, casting strange shadows. It wasn't the crowded, bustling headquarters I'd pictured. It was silent. Empty.
No people. No voices. Not even a footstep besides mine and Daichi's.
"This is SSUB?" I asked.
"Part of it," Daichi replied, his voice echoing. "The others are… elsewhere."
That didn't make me feel better.
We crossed a bridge that stretched over a pit so deep I couldn't see the bottom. My palms itched with unease, but I kept moving. The whole place felt like it was watching me.
When we reached the far side, Daichi stopped in front of a small steel door and pushed it open.
"This will be your room for now."
I stepped inside. It wasn't much — a bed, a desk, and a small lamp throwing just enough light to make the shadows seem heavier.
"You'll be safe here," Daichi said, but his voice was distant, like he was already thinking about somewhere else. "Stay put. I have things to arrange."
I turned to ask what he meant, but he was already closing the door.
The lock clicked.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the metal door like I could see through it. My chest tightened.
What if this was all a trick? What if Grandpa wasn't just gone, but— No. I shook my head hard. I couldn't think like that.
I sat on the bed, the springs creaking under my weight. The silence pressed in, thick and heavy. My hands wouldn't stop fidgeting, and my thoughts kept looping back to the same questions: Why me? Why now? What's happening?
I was confused.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling. The lamp flickered once, then steadied again, leaving the shadows along the corners just dark enough to stir a strange unease in my gut.
Somewhere deep inside, I knew this was only the beginning — but whether I'd made the right choice following him… I wasn't sure.
The room Daichi gave me was quiet. Too quiet.
Metal walls, smooth as glass, hummed faintly like a machine breathing. The bed was stiff, the air cool but heavy, and every time I closed my eyes, I could hear something… like a slow, distant heartbeat.
I lay there staring at the ceiling. No windows. Just a faint strip of light above the door. The kind of place that didn't care whether you slept or not.
I turned over.
The bed creaked.
The hum got louder.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out. That's when the whispers started.
At first, I thought it was my imagination — words so faint they might've been air currents, but they grew clearer, threading through the silence. I couldn't make out what they were saying. It was like being underwater, with voices drifting in from somewhere impossibly far away.
And then… I wasn't in the room anymore.
I was standing on a massive battlefield. The ground was scorched black, cracked open in jagged lines that glowed with heat. Smoke curled into a red sky, the air thick with the smell of ash.
In the distance, I saw him.
Gramps.
His back was turned, shoulders squared like he always stood when he was ready to fight.
"Grandpa!" I yelled, my voice echoing unnaturally, as if the world around me was hollow.
He didn't move. Not until I took a step toward him.
Then he turned — and my stomach dropped.
His face looked older, worn down. His eyes glowed faintly, not the warm brown I remembered but something sharp and cold.
Every step I took toward him, the ground cracked under my feet, fire spilling from the gaps like molten veins. Shadows crept up from the edges, long and clawed, stretching toward me.
One of them whispered in a voice that wasn't human, "You will burn the world."
I froze. My chest tightened.
Grandpa's voice cut through the smoke, urgent, desperate:
"Run, Nesshou! Don't let it take you!"
I turned my head — and that's when I saw it.
A towering silhouette of a beast, its body made of fire so bright it hurt to look at. Horns curved from its head, and its eyes were like molten gold. It stood behind Grandpa, but it didn't attack him. Instead, it stared right at me.
The beast's mouth opened, flames spilling out as it spoke in a deep, rumbling voice:
"We are one."
Heat crashed over me like a wave. My legs wouldn't move. I wanted to shout, to say something — but no sound came out.
The fire surged forward, swallowing everything — the ground, the shadows, even Grandpa.
The last thing I saw was his hand reaching toward me, just before the world turned white.
I gasped and sat up in bed, chest heaving, the faint hum of the room pressing in from all sides. My skin was damp with sweat, and the taste of smoke lingered in my mouth.
I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
The sun rose early that day.
Or at least, that's what I thought.
Truth was, I hadn't slept a minute. The dream kept replaying over and over — Grandpa's voice, the battlefield, that moment I couldn't change. Every time I closed my eyes, it all came back sharper, louder, until I gave up trying.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, watching the pale light creep in through the narrow window.
Daichi was already at the door, biting into a piece of bread like it owed him money. "You're up early," he said, though his eyes weren't on me.
They were fixed on the corner of the ceiling — a small black camera, its red light blinking like a heartbeat.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," he replied too fast.
We stepped out into the hallway, the silence heavy enough to hear my own breathing. No other footsteps. No chatter. No signs of life.
We walked in silence for a while, the echo of our steps bouncing off the walls.
Daichi kept his pace steady, but every now and then, he glanced sideways at me.
"You've been wearing that face since yesterday," he finally said.
"What face?"
"That 'my world's falling apart but I'm too stubborn to admit it' face."
I huffed out a humorless laugh. "Maybe because it is falling apart."
He didn't reply right away. "Look… I'm not going to tell you to forget it, or to move on. But whatever's ahead, it's easier if you keep your eyes forward instead of back."
I kept my gaze on the floor. "That's easy for you to say."
"Not really," he murmured. "You'd be surprised how much I know about losing people."
"This place always feel like a ghost town?" I tried to sound casual and to change the gloomy topic.
"Not usually," Daichi said.
That was when I heard it — a faint set of footsteps behind us, soft and deliberate.
I glanced back. Empty corridor.
Still, the feeling stayed.
As we passed a dim stretch of hall, I saw them — two faint, steady lights in the dark.
Eyes. Watching me.
The moment I blinked, they were gone.
"Daichi—" I began, but a piercing alarm ripped through the air.
"Containment breach. All personnel to secure positions."
The voice over the intercom was calm. Too calm.
Red lights strobed across the walls as Daichi grabbed my arm, his grip like steel. "Stay close. And whatever happens…" His gaze locked on mine. "…don't use your flames."
Before I could answer, something moved in the shadows ahead.
And it was coming straight for us.
No it was coming straight to me.
NESSGEEORIGINAL