The first thing I was aware of was the sound. The soft, rhythmic cring of wood, and a baby's cry. My own cry.
My vision, blurry and unfocused, settled on the warm, worn face of an old man with kind eyes and a strong jaw.
"There, there..." he cooed, his voice a gentle rumble. "No need to cry. Grandpa is here now."
He lifted me, and his presence was so comforting that my cries subsided, replaced by a gurgle of laughter.
"All better, I see," he smiled.
Nomad's Land. Year 1539.
The memory shifted and solidified. I was older now, maybe five, living in a small but sturdy house in a village of exiles. Grandpa Izumi was my whole world.
A frantic knocking at the door shattered the peaceful evening.
"Who's there?" Izumi called out, his body instantly tense.
"It's me, Shiba! We need to talk!"
I watched from the doorway as Izumi opened the door to reveal Shiba, a man with a warrior's posture and a face etched with concern. They spoke in hushed, urgent tones outside, where the village lay under a setting sun, a fragile oasis in a wasteland.
"What happened?" Izumi asked.
"It's about the Umbrythra's army," Shiba replied, his voice low. "The scout team sensed them about 35 kilometers north-west."
Izumi's face hardened. "Understood. Gather the men. We will prepare if they attack."
As Shiba rushed off, Izumi muttered to himself, "Those idiots. The Arcs launch wars, and we suffer."
The scene blurred and accelerated. The low, mournful sound of a horn echoed through the valley, a sound that promised death. Then came the shouts, the roar of flames, and the screams.
"They are here!" a voice yelled.
"Fight back!" Izumi bellowed, his form radiating a power I had never seen before. "We need to protect the village no matter what!"
Shiba was at his side, a gleaming sword of light in his hand. "We need to protect the village no matter what!"
The village became a battleground. When the smoke cleared, the cost was devastating.
"Casualties?" Izumi asked, his voice heavy.
"Around 120," Shiba reported grimly.
"Goddamn it already," Izumi cursed, running a hand through his greying hair.
"We pushed back an army of what, a thousand?" someone offered.
"1014 to be precise, Chief," a scout corrected.
"Now what?" Shiba pressed, his voice tight with worry. "We can't do this for eternity."
"We need to do it as long as we can," Izumi insisted.
"And how long will that be? Five... ten years?" Shiba's voice rose. "Your health is worsening by the day! You can't even enter Mastered Control now, can you?"
"I'm fine, thanks for worrying," Izumi snapped.
"It's not about that! He might die!" Shiba gestured toward me, where I was hiding.
"Do you think I don't know that?" Izumi roared, his composure breaking. "As long as he is fine... I'm fine."
The argument was cut short by reports and rebuilding efforts. But the fear in Shiba's eyes was real. The danger was far from over.
Ten Years Later... Nomad's Land, 1549
"Grandpa! Where are you?"
I was fifteen now, no longer a child but not yet a man. I burst into our house to find Izumi tending to his plants.
"Oh, you woke up already?" he said, his smile still warm, but I could see the lines of pain around his eyes more clearly now. The years of constant defense had taken their toll.
"Where were you?" I asked.
"Watering the plants," he said. "Hungry?"
"As always."
Later, as we ate, Uncle Shiba visited. His eyes immediately sought me out.
"How are you, kid? Got any power yet?"
Izumi shot him a warning look, but the question hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.
"No..." I mumbled, looking down at my hands. They were just... hands. No sparks of fire, no swirls of shadow. Nothing.
"Hey, what's with the long face?" Shiba said, trying to sound cheerful. "It will awake someday. I can feel it."
But his words felt hollow. In a world where magic was life, I was a blank slate. An anomaly.
After I went inside, I could hear their hushed, tense conversation outside.
"Got any intel on them?" Izumi asked.
"Yeah. We have at most three days."
"Three days? Tell me more."
"Our intel says the Umbrythra's army will attack from the north... with thirty fleets, at least."
"So it's not going to be easy."
"Easy?!" Shiba's voice was a harsh whisper. "They have three thousand warriors, with ten war lords! We are at most one hundred and fifty left!"
Before Izumi could respond, a scout commander ran up, his face pale. "Chief, urgent intel! The Ignarion army, counted at forty-five hundred, is fifty kilometers out!"
Izumi stood silent for a long moment, the weight of seven thousand enemy soldiers pressing down on him. "So it's going to be a showdown."
"What are we going to do?" Shiba asked, the despair clear in his voice.
"We are going to evacuate everybody. Tonight."
Shiba stared at him in disbelief. "[Izumi], are you out of your mind? You think we stand a chance against seventy-five hundred soldiers?"
"We don't," Izumi said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "We will get as much time as we can."
"So it's our final battle."
"I'm afraid so."
Shiba looked up at the sky, a single, pained word escaping his lips. "God."
I listened, my heart pounding in my chest. This was it. The end of our fragile peace.
The battle came, just as they predicted. It was chaos incarnate. The air was thick with smoke, the screams of the dying, and the clash of steel and magic. I watched from a hiding place, helpless, as Izumi and Shiba fought like demons.
But then he appeared. A figure in a black cloak, standing atop the watchtower, radiating malice.
"Impossible..." Izumi whispered, his face ashen. "I thought I killed you... BLACK CLOAK!"
But it wasn't him. A sensor unit confirmed it was an impostor, though still immensely powerful.
"You should pay attention, grandpa," a mocking voice rang out.
Shiba cried out as the Black Cloak struck, a vicious attack that sent Izumi staggering.
"Curse you!" Shiba roared. "God Limitation Release: Halo of Havens!"
A brilliant light erupted from him, but the Black Cloak met it with a wave of pure darkness. "Demonologic Warpath!"
They were evenly matched, but then the scout's voice echoed in our minds, a psychic message of pure terror. {Shiba, we lost sight of Kael!}
In that moment of distraction, the Black Cloak struck. "Scepter of Hatred!"
"NOOOO, SHIBA!" Izumi screamed.
I could bear it no longer. I broke from my hiding place. "GRANDPA!"
But I was too late. Izumi was on his knees, a fatal wound glowing with dark energy on his chest.
"Kid..." he gasped as I reached him, tears streaming down my face. "I only have several minutes."
He smiled weakly. "I thought what present I should give you."
He began to chant, ancient words of power that made the air hum. "...transfer!"
A searing heat, unlike anything I had ever known, flooded my body. It was fire, raw and primordial, but beneath it was something else, something cold and dark. It felt like two titans were waking up inside my soul.
"Go now, Kael!" Izumi commanded with his last breath.
"NOOOO!" I screamed.
A massive explosion of energy erupted from me, a mix of fiery red and abyssal black. The last thing I saw was Shiba's shocked face, his mouth forming words I couldn't hear.
"What have you done, old geezer?"
Then, darkness.