Chapter 1: The Ashes of Scarlet
The world was silent. Not peaceful — but the kind of silence that comes after screams have died out.
A faint breeze brushed against broken wood and scorched soil. The smell of smoke and iron filled the air. Beneath the gray sky, the once-colorful Kurta village was now only ashes and corpses.
Among them… someone moved.
A boy's fingers twitched. Then his hand. Slowly, painfully, Kurapika opened his eyes.
His vision was blurry at first. He saw nothing but red — blood staining the ground, the sky glowing faintly from burning huts, the lifeless faces of people he once knew.
"…where… am I?" he whispered, his throat dry and cracked.
When he tried to move, pain shot through his body. Every muscle ached. His head pounded like it was being split in two. But the worst pain wasn't physical — it was the weight pressing against his chest. A sorrow so deep it nearly crushed him.
Then it hit him. The memories. The screams. The faces.
He remembered them — his parents, his friends, the laughter that once filled the streets. All gone.
The Spiders… they took everything.
Kurapika froze as a strange chill ran down his spine. Something inside him stirred — like a second heartbeat.
He felt aware. Not just of his body… but of something deeper, older. A memory that wasn't his. A voice that whispered from far away.
"So this is it… the Kurta massacre."
His eyes widened. The thought wasn't entirely his own — it came from a place buried deep inside. He didn't understand it, not yet. But the weight of that thought made him tremble.
"I shouldn't… be alive," he muttered. His breath came out shaky, his body covered in dirt and blood.
Around him, the bodies of his clan lay still — some holding each other, some reaching toward the sky. The Scarlet Eyes they once carried were gone. Empty sockets and lifeless expressions were all that remained.
Kurapika bit his lip until it bled. Hot tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the ash.
"Why…" His voice cracked. "Why am I the only one left…?"
He clenched his fists. The pain in his chest grew heavier, until something inside him snapped.
A faint light flickered behind his eyes. At first, he thought it was just the reflection of the fire.
But then… his heartbeat slowed. His breathing deepened. The world around him began to shift.
He could see things, faint colors dancing in the air, glowing particles swirling around every object. It was like the world itself had come alive.
Kurapika blinked, confused. "What… is this…?"
The particles twisted, moving toward him like they were answering a call. And then — his eyes burned.
A golden-red light flared within his pupils. His vision sharpened, his senses expanded. Every flicker of movement, every flow of energy, he could see it all.
His reflection in a broken piece of glass showed eyes that were no longer just scarlet. They shone like burning gold wrapped in red fire.
And deep inside him… something whispered again.
"You have awakened — the Emperor Eyes."
Kurapika's body froze. His heart raced. He didn't know what those words meant, but he could feel the truth behind them.
Power. It wasn't the kind of power born from anger or grief. It was something pure, a force that responded to his soul's will to live.
The air around him trembled. The faint aura particles bent toward him, swirling around his arm.
He felt energy rushing through his veins, brighter and hotter than fire, painful but alive.
And from his right hand, light took shape.
Something metallic coiled around his wrist, glowing faintly in gold — a chain.
Kurapika stared, trembling. The chain wasn't heavy, but he could feel its presence inside his soul, connected to him like a heartbeat. Then another chain appeared, wrapping around his fingers, one by one — six in total, each shining with a different light.
He didn't understand how or why, but deep down… he knew.
These chains were his will made real. The power of his soul, reborn from death.
The six golden chains glowed faintly, moving gently like they were breathing. Each one gave off a different feeling — some warm, some sharp, some heavy. Kurapika could sense something powerful inside each link, like they had their own heartbeat connected to his.
He fell to his knees, staring at his hands. "What… what is this power?" he whispered.
The wind blew through the ruins, scattering ashes into the air. The faint whispers of his clan seemed to echo between the flames.
"Kurapika… live…""Protect… our eyes…""Don't let our light disappear…"
The voices were faint, fading quickly, but they wrapped around his heart like soft chains. His tears fell again — not just from sadness, but from the heavy feeling that this power was born from every soul that had died here.
The golden light pulsed again. His aura spread out from his body — wild and uncontrolled. The ground around him cracked slightly, and the ashes lifted into the air like smoke caught in a storm.
He gasped. "I can… feel it. It's flowing inside me."
His heartbeat echoed in his ears. Thump… thump… thump…
With every beat, he felt his body grow stronger. His senses sharpened, his breathing steadied. The fear inside him started to fade — replaced by something new. Resolve.
He closed his eyes and focused. And in that moment, understanding began to form in his mind — not as words, but as instincts.
The chain around his thumb pulsed first. It was warm — almost comforting. He felt its purpose flow into his thoughts.
"Heal."
Kurapika placed his thumb on a small cut on his arm. Light spread from the chain, closing the wound instantly. His breath caught in surprise. The pain was gone, replaced by a calm, peaceful feeling. But he felt a sudden drain — like a part of his aura had melted away.
So… healing cost aura. Not life? He smiled faintly through his tears. "That's fine. As long as it keeps me alive."
Next, the index finger chain pulsed. Its light was sharper, colder. When he focused, a phrase appeared in his mind:
"You shall speak the truth, or face judgment."
He could almost imagine it being used — to force a person to tell the truth, and if they resisted, their life or Nen would be taken. But there was something else — he could choose the punishment. Death… or the sealing of Nen.
Kurapika clenched his fist. "A weapon of truth… a chain of justice."
The middle finger chain glowed next — heavier, like metal pressing against his skin. He felt its power spread through the ground.
"Bind. Stop the flow."
In his mind, he saw how it could lock a person's body or aura completely. A perfect restraint — one that could hold even the strongest opponent if his will was firm enough.
"This… will stop anyone who threatens others."
Then came the ring finger chain. It gave off a strange vibration, like a pulse of returning energy.
"Reflect. Return what was given."
He felt its ability immediately — the power to send back any Nen attack, curse, or damage to its source. A mirror of pain. But it wasn't absolute. The strength of the reflection depended on his control and aura balance.
He nodded slightly. "Then I'll learn to master it."
The little finger chain flared last among the visible ones. It felt wild — alive. Energy burst from it for a moment, filling his body with sudden strength, speed, and focus.
"Transcend. Rise beyond your limit."
Kurapika gasped. His aura surged, glowing brighter. His pain vanished for a few seconds, replaced by pure power. But after a short moment, it faded, leaving his muscles aching. He realized the risk — too much use, and it could destroy his body from the inside.
He smiled weakly. "Power at a price… that's fair."
Finally, the hidden chain on his palm began to appear — faint and almost transparent. It pulsed slowly, like a heart. When he touched it, the entire world around him seemed to grow quiet. The aura in the air trembled.
"Sovereignty."
He felt it. The chain could connect with another person's aura — take control of it or align it with his. It wasn't just power… it was command. He could make enemies lose control of their Nen, or let his allies fight as one.
Kurapika's breath shook as the realization hit him. "This is…" he whispered. "The power of an Emperor."
The moment he said that, the six chains shimmered brightly, responding to his words. He could feel the unity between them — as if each one represented a part of him: his kindness, his justice, his restraint, his pain, his determination, and his will to lead.
Then, the glow faded. The chains turned invisible, hiding beneath his skin, waiting to be called again.
Kurapika slowly stood up. His body was still weak, but he felt something new — a quiet strength filling his soul. The sorrow didn't vanish, but it no longer crushed him. Instead, it became the fire that would guide him.
He looked at the ruins around him — the broken homes, the ashes, the faces frozen in their final moments. His chest tightened again, but this time, he didn't cry.
He walked forward, kneeling beside a small pendant on the ground — his mother's. He held it tightly in his hand. "I swear," he said softly. "Your deaths will not be in vain."
He looked at his reflection in a shattered piece of metal. The golden-red glow of his eyes burned fiercely, calm yet powerful.
"I am Kurapika… the last of the Kurta Clan," he whispered. "No… I am something more."
He clenched his fist as the chains flickered once more.
"I will not live for revenge alone. I will live to bring balance — to protect what remains good in this world."
The night wind blew gently across the ruins, carrying away the last of the ashes. And in that silence, for the first time since the massacre, the world felt like it had found its next guardian.
Kurapika stood there for a long time, staring at the faint glow that lingered around his hands. The wind carried the smell of smoke and burned soil, but for the first time, he could breathe through it.
His heart had calmed, yet his aura kept flowing — restless, like waves crashing in his chest. It wanted to move. It wanted to grow.
He looked at his reflection again — those golden-red eyes shining faintly even in the dark.
"Emperor Eyes…"The words echoed in his mind again, soft but commanding.
He sat down slowly and closed his eyes. His body still hurt, but he pushed the pain away. If this power came from within, then he needed to understand it.
He focused on his breathing — in, out, in, out — just like the old lessons he had once learned about calming his mind. With every breath, his aura moved more smoothly, wrapping around his body like invisible light.
At first, he could only feel it — a soft warmth flowing through his arms and legs. Then he began to see it. Through his half-open eyes, lines of faint light appeared — flowing inside him, circling like golden rivers.
He could even see the aura in the air — drifting slowly like dust, touching his skin, and then disappearing.
"So this is Nen…"
He smiled faintly. In this world, only those who had trained and awakened could sense this energy. But he — he was born into it now, reborn by it.
The chains around his fingers pulsed once more. A strange instinct told him they were connected to his aura flow. Each chain represented something — a piece of his soul.
Healing. Judgment. Binding. Reflection. Transcendence. Sovereignty. Together… they were balance.
Kurapika lifted his right hand, staring at his palm. "If these powers are a part of me," he whispered, "then I must learn to control them."
He took a deep breath and focused again. He could feel the aura gathering in his chest, heavy and warm. He imagined pulling it outward, like water flowing into his hand.
The air trembled. His hand glowed softly. For a brief moment, the six chains appeared again, faint but real — responding to his will.
He could feel their heartbeat. Each one spoke to him through sensation, not words — and he understood them clearly.
The warmth from the healing chain. The chill of the judgment chain. The pressure of the binding chain. The echo of the reflecting chain. The burning surge of the transcending chain. And the deep pulse of the sovereign chain.
All of them flowed together, synchronized.
Kurapika's breathing quickened. His aura expanded even more, spreading around him like a storm. His golden-red eyes flared — brighter, deeper, alive.
Something clicked inside his mind. A connection between the chains and the eyes.
And then—the world slowed down.
The ashes floating in the air froze mid-flight. The fire's light dimmed. Even his heartbeat grew silent.
He could see everything. Every drop of aura, every detail in the movement of air. The world was glowing, alive, breathing.
Kurapika's eyes burned brighter — a deep crimson mixed with gold, shining like twin suns. He felt his aura explode outward, perfectly stable yet full of power.
His body grew lighter, stronger. His senses sharpened. His aura control became perfect — no waste, no weakness.
"Emperor Time…"
The name came to him naturally, like a whisper of truth. This was the state where his Emperor Eyes and Emperor Chains worked together — where his Nen and his body reached their peak.
Power flowed through every part of him — his aura lines, his nerves, his muscles, his heartbeat. Everything doubled, maybe even more.
But there was a limit — he could feel it. The longer he stayed in this state, the faster his aura drained. He couldn't hold it for long. Not yet.
Still, for that short moment, he felt like he truly ruled his own soul. Not out of pride — but clarity. Balance.
He opened his hand, and the golden chains floated in front of him like a crown of light. Each link glowed gently, responding to his will, swaying in the air.
Kurapika slowly stood up, letting the aura wrap around his body like armor. His hair fluttered in the energy's soft wind. He looked around the silent ruins once more — the ashes, the dark sky, the cold moonlight.
"I understand now," he whispered. "This power… it's not for revenge. It's for justice."
He clenched his hand, and the chains vanished again, fading into light. The glow in his eyes softened. Emperor Time ended, and the world returned to normal speed.
His knees weakened as exhaustion hit him. He fell back to the ground, breathing hard. Sweat rolled down his face. Every bone in his body felt heavy.
"So… this is my limit," he muttered, half-laughing, half-breathless. "Ten minutes… maybe less."
But even with that weakness, he smiled. Because for the first time since the massacre, he had something to hold onto — a purpose.
He looked at his hands again and whispered, "I will master this power. I will grow strong enough to protect what remains… and to face those who destroyed us."
The flames in the distance flickered lower as dawn began to rise. Kurapika stood slowly, using the last of his strength to walk toward the river that marked the edge of his village.
The morning light shone faintly on his golden eyes.
"From today on," he said quietly, "I walk my own path."
He turned his back on the ashes and walked forward —toward a future that would test not just his strength, but his soul.
The forest was quiet again. The flames had died out, and only faint smoke rose into the morning air. The sound of birds had not yet returned — as if even nature mourned the loss of the Kurta Clan.
Kurapika stood near the edge of the river, where the water ran clear and cold. He knelt down and washed the blood from his hands. The cold water bit into his skin, but he didn't move. He kept staring at the reflection in the water — his tired eyes, his pale face, the small cuts that still hadn't healed.
He could still see his people in his mind — smiling, laughing, living peaceful lives.He clenched his fist, his heart heavy with pain.
They're all gone. And I couldn't protect them.
His reflection wavered in the water as a small tear dropped and rippled outward.
But then, he saw something else — faint lines of light moving within his body. His aura. His power. It reminded him that he was still alive… and that there was still something he could do.
He took a deep breath. "I can't stay here," he whispered. "This place… it's just filled with ghosts now."
Kurapika reached into his pocket and pulled out a small chain pendant — the one his mother gave him before. The metal was cracked and burned, but still recognizable. He tied it around his wrist using one of his Nen chains.
"I'll carry you with me," he said softly. "All of you."
He looked up at the sky, where the first light of dawn spread across the clouds. The sunlight touched the trees, the ruins, and finally his face.
He stood tall, even though his legs trembled from exhaustion.
Then, he raised his right hand — the hand with his chains — and spoke clearly:
"I swear… I will not live in hatred.""I will live to understand power — to protect, not just to destroy. ""And when I face those who took everything from us…""I will show them what it means to face the last of the Kurta Clan."
The wind blew gently through the forest, carrying his voice away like a promise to the world.
At that moment, his chains glowed faintly again, as if responding to his oath. The Emperor Eyes flickered once more — calm this time, not burning with rage, but with quiet resolve.
He took a step forward, then another. The ground was soft beneath his boots, the forest still and watchful.
He didn't know where the road would lead — but his heart told him to move forward.
Days passed as he walked through empty fields and mountain paths. He hunted for food, rested by rivers, and practiced controlling his Nen whenever he could. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night, his heart racing, hearing voices that weren't there.
But every time he felt fear or sorrow, he would touch the chain around his wrist and whisper:
"I will become stronger."
And with each passing day, his control improved. He learned to summon each chain at will — to heal small wounds, to test his binding limits, to sense the flow of aura in the world around him. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
When he reached the mountain range that bordered the forest, he stopped and looked back one last time. Far in the distance, he could still see faint smoke rising where the village once stood.
He bowed his head. "Goodbye… everyone."
Then he turned his eyes forward — toward the dense forest ahead, full of strange energy and danger. That forest would become his training ground — a place where he would push his limits, master his Nen, and prepare for the path of a Hunter.
The morning wind blew against his face as he took his first step into the unknown. And in that moment, the sunlight reflected off his eyes — glowing softly in gold and crimson.
The boy named Kurapika had died that night. But from his ashes, a new one was born — the Emperor of Chains.