They say only fools chase danger, but if that's true, then this world was built by fools.
From the burning deserts of Sarada to the endless cliffs of Huga, from sky islands floating above the clouds to the sunken ruins beneath the sea, every corner of the world echoes with one truth:
People become Adventurers because they can't sit still.
Not because they're fearless. Not because they're strong. But because somewhere deep inside, something calls them. A whisper that says:
>"There's more out there. Go find it."<
And so they leave the safety of home behind, trading comfort for danger, stability for uncertainty, and the familiar for the unknown.
But for most, it isn't just about adventure. No, It's about the Rin.
A legend that has outlived empires, a tale passed through generations like a sacred fire. Nobody knows what it is, an item, a place, a person, or something beyond comprehension. All that's known is a single line, spoken by the greatest Adventurer to ever live, the man whose name became a myth: Eustass.
>"The Rin… grants any wish in the world."<
That one sentence changed everything.
It ignited hearts. Shattered boundaries. Turned ordinary people into dreamers, and dreamers into legends. Every Adventurer who steps into the unknown does so with that same fire in their chest, the hope that maybe, just maybe, they will find the Rin and have their deepest wish granted.
---
And among those countless dreamers stood a boy named Dante.
He wasn't born special. He didn't have noble blood or a grand destiny. But he did have a reason
to bring back his deceased parents.
By his side walked his adopted elder brother, Yamato, whose wish was the same. Together, they made a promise beneath the stars:
"We'll find it. No matter how far. No matter how long it takes."
The two of them, bound not by blood but by purpose, set off into a world that would test their courage, their strength, and their bond.
And though their dream was born from grief, their journey would be filled with laughter, chaos, and the kind of moments only fools with impossible dreams could create.
Because in a world where legends breathe and the impossible walks among men
Adventure isn't something you find. It's something you become.
---
The sun shimmered on the horizon, painting the sea gold. The waves lapped softly against the shore of First Island, the gateway to the great unknown, where every Adventurer's journey began.
A small, battered boat drifted to a stop by the dock, creaking like it had fought a thousand storms to make it this far. From within, two figures emerged.
The first was a young man about seventeen, standing at a lean five foot eight, with white hair that shimmered in the sunlight like snow dust and eyes bluer than the ocean before him. His outfit was a strange mix of comfort and charm, a fluffy sheepskin vest over a crisp white shirt, gray baggy pants tucked neatly into Ugg-style boots. The sort of outfit that screamed, "I'm ready for adventure, but I also nap well."
His name was Dante and his smile could probably melt glaciers.
Behind him stepped his older brother, Yamato, tall, composed, and the complete opposite in vibe. His long crimson hair flowed down his back, framing a sharp face and a pair of deep red eyes that looked like they could cut through steel. He wore a dark, high-collared shirt left slightly open at the chest, sleeves rolled just enough to show defined forearms, and loose navy trousers secured with a purple rope belt, from which a sword hung with quiet authority.
If Dante looked like a storm you could laugh with, Yamato was the calm that made you afraid of the thunder.
Dante jumped onto the dock, stretching his arms wide toward the sun.
"WAAAH! Finally! Land!" he shouted, inhaling dramatically. "Yamato! Smell that air! That's the smell of freedom! Adventure! Destiny!"
Yamato stepped off the boat in silence, adjusting his sword straps. "It smells like fish."
Dante spun around with a grin. "You're just immune to excitement."
"I'm immune to stupidity," Yamato replied flatly.
Dante placed a hand over his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Oh! My own brother's words… they pierce deeper than your sword, Yamato!"
Yamato didn't even blink. "Get over it. And don't forget why we're here." He turned his gaze toward the sprawling island town ahead. "We're not sightseeing. We're after the Rin."
At the mention of that name, even Dante's grin softened a little. He looked up toward the distant mountain peaks that crowned the island, shimmering faintly in the light.
"Yeah, yeah, I know… the Rin."
The air around them seemed to hum when that word was spoken. The Rin, the legendary wish-granting power that countless Adventurers sought but none had ever found. The very reason these two brothers had left home.
"To bring them back," Dante murmured quietly.
Yamato gave a curt nod. "To bring them back."
A moment passed, heavy with shared resolve. Then Dante's grin returned, stretching ear to ear. "Still, before we find the Rin, maybe we can find some food? I'm starving!"
"Of course you are."
"C'mon, live a little, big bro!" Dante laughed, hopping up onto a nearby crate. "We're finally starting our journey! Don't you feel something? Excitement? Hope? A little spark of adventure in your cold, frozen heart?"
"No," Yamato said without hesitation.
Dante dramatically fell off the crate, clutching his chest. "There it is again! You wound me, emotionally and physically!"
"Keep talking and I'll make it physical for real."
"Oh-ho! Big words for someone who couldn't even row the boat straight"
Yamato's eyebrow twitched. "What was that?"
Dante froze mid-sentence, realizing he'd just lit the fuse. "Uh… brotherly bonding?"
Too late.
With a quiet, deadly calm, Yamato stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. "Let's bond, then."
"Wait, Yamato! I was kidding! Put down the serious face—AAAAAAHHHH!!"
And just like that, the grand adventure began with a chase through the marketplace.
---
"MOVE! COMING THROUGH! HOT-BLOODED BROTHERLY DISPUTE IN PROGRESS!" Dante shouted, darting through the bustling streets of First Island's main square, weaving between stalls stacked with fruits, weapons, and strange trinkets.
Behind him came Yamato, silent but terrifying, moving with the smooth precision of a predator. His long red hair trailed behind him like a banner of impending doom.
Merchants dove out of the way, laughter breaking out across the market.
"Ahahaha! Look at those two go!" one old fishmonger bellowed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Reminds me of me and my brother back in the day!"
A group of vendors paused their work to watch the chaos unfold.
"Those boys are new around here," said a baker, setting down his flour sack.
"Never seen hair like that before," another merchant added. "White and red? Can't miss 'em."
Near the corner of the square, a young girl tugged on her grandfather's sleeve. "Grandpa! They're kinda… handsome, aren't they?" she whispered, blushing slightly. "Especially the white-haired one."
The old man nearly dropped his cane. "You keep your eyes to yourself, girl! Adventurers are nothing but trouble!"
The surrounding crowd burst into laughter as the girl pouted, cheeks redder than an apple.
"Oh come on, Grandpa!"
"Don't 'Grandpa' me! You stay away from fools like that unless you want trouble following you home!"
The laughter rippled through the market again—light and easy—until a different voice spoke up.
"Adventurers, huh?" murmured a spice vendor, folding his arms. "We haven't seen any new ones since last month."
"Yeah," said another, lowering his voice. "You think they're also searching for the Rin?"
The air changed instantly. The laughter faded. The playful chatter turned to whispers.
The girl blinked, confused by the sudden tension. "The Rin? Then… we should warn them about Domiré-sama, shouldn't we?"
Her grandfather's eyes went wide with terror. "Hush, child!"
All around, merchants turned sharply toward her, their expressions dark.
"Don't speak that name out loud," one hissed. "You'll bring trouble to yourself—and to us."
The girl shrank back behind her grandfather, clutching his sleeve. "S-sorry…"
The uneasy silence lingered a moment before the merchants slowly returned to their work, pretending the conversation never happened. But the name she'd said—Domiré—hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
---
Meanwhile, Dante's luck finally ran out.
A hand shot out, grabbing the back of his vest.
"Caught you."
"Wait, Yamato—brother! Think about this rationally! Violence isn't the answer—AAAAHHHHH!!!"
A few minutes later, Dante sat on a crate, face swollen, hair disheveled, looking like he'd survived a natural disaster.
"You done?" Yamato asked, crossing his arms.
"Emotionally? Never," Dante mumbled, a faint grin still on his face.
Yamato sighed, adjusting his swords. "We'll stay here for tonight. Then head to the next island at dawn."
Dante nodded weakly. "Aye aye, captain of suffering."
Despite the bruises, his spirit was unshaken. His eyes still gleamed with that same reckless fire that made people believe in impossible dreams.
For them, this was only the beginning.
---
Across the city, past the bustling streets and laughter, stood a towering mansion of black marble and gold, looming like a vulture over the town. Inside its grand hall, the light was dim, the air thick with perfume and arrogance.
At the center of the room sat a young woman bound to a chair.
Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders like ink, her eyes sharp and defiant even as she glared up from beneath her bangs. She wore a sleek black outfit torn from struggle, wrists locked by Technique Restriction Cuffs—iron bands engraved with shimmering runes that sealed her power.
Before her stood a boy barely older than her, maybe eighteen, draped in gold chains, jeweled rings, and the kind of smug grin that made people want to punch him on sight. His skin was pale, his hair slicked back, and he reeked of wealth and cruelty.
He tilted her chin up with a finger heavy with rings. "Anita… I finally have you as my own."
Anita's jaw clenched. Her breath trembled, not with fear, but rage.
Then her voice cut through the silence, cold and furious—
"DOMIRÉ!!!"
Domiré's grin twisted when Anita shouted his name. His gold-studded ring flashed as he struck her on her face, the crack echoing through the chamber.
"Don't raise your voice at me," he hissed.
Anita's glare didn't falter. "Then stop pretending you have the right to own me."
Domiré gave a dry, amused chuckle and brushed his sleeve as though her words were dirt. "You always were dramatic. Do you think any of this had to happen? My father and I offered you everything—money, land, comfort. You could have lived like a queen. Yet you and your stubborn father still said no. To me. To House Domiré!"
He began pacing, every step measured and arrogant. "You should have seen him begging to keep that tiny workshop of his. Pathetic. Commoners never understand opportunity when it's handed to them."
Anita met his gaze sharply. "I'm not something to buy. And even if I were, I wouldn't sell myself to someone as rotten as you."
For a moment, silence. Then his smile returned—thin, poisonous. "Rotten? Maybe. But power is power, Anita. My father says nobles must protect this kingdom, but I say nobles should rule it. Our blood is pure. We deserve what we desire."
He turned toward the door, adjusting his cloak. "Father and Mother are away at the Royal Capital. Perfect timing, wouldn't you say? When they return, they'll see that I've handled my own affairs." His tone dropped to a hiss. "He'll scold me, perhaps… but that's all he ever does."
Domiré glanced toward the giant standing by the wall. "Burly. Untie her feet and get her something to eat. I have business elsewhere."
The mountain of a man grunted in response. Domiré gave one last smirk toward Anita. "Don't run, dear Anita. The city is mine." Then he strode out, the heavy doors closing behind him.
When the echo faded, the room fell still. Anita's shoulders trembled, a single breath escaping her lips—a quiet, frustrated sob quickly swallowed by anger.
Burly watched her, his face carved from stone. "What do you want to eat?" he asked flatly.
Anita didn't answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door.
He exhaled through his nose, motioning to a servant in the corner. "Bring her something simple. Bread. Fruit. Anything edible."
As the attendant hurried away, Burly crouched and began loosening the ropes around Anita's ankles. "Don't try anything," he muttered. "Catching you once was trouble enough."
Anita stayed silent, but the faint glint in her eyes said more than words ever could—
She wouldn't stay here for long.