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The night sky split open with a crack of thunder so loud it rattled the rooftops of Stormfall Village. Lightning danced across low clouds like wild serpents, illuminating the quiet settlement in sudden flashes of cold, white light. Most villagers had locked themselves indoors hours ago—the storm felt too unnatural, too alive.
But the storm wasn't the danger.
Something else was coming.
At the far edge of the village, near the old stone monument, Billionzaruto crouched on one knee, his breath thin and uneven. Electricity flickered across his fingertips without his permission, like his own body was warning him of what lurked in the dark. He wiped sweat from his brow and whispered to himself:
"Calm down… keep it together."
But something in him refused to calm.
His heartbeat was faster than the rain.
His blood felt hotter than the lightning.
They're coming.
A sudden thud landed behind him—soft, but heavy enough to disturb the dirt.
Billionzaruto spun instinctively.
A figure cloaked in black crouched on a nearby rooftop, mask shaped like a jagged storm cloud, fabric rippling in the wind. A pair of glowing purple eyes stared down at him without emotion.
Billionzaruto's pulse dropped into a cold pit.
Shadow Tempest Assassins.
Before he could speak, dozens more figures materialized across the rooftops, descending silently like shadows given life. They surrounded him with inhuman precision, their masked faces glowing faintly in the stormlight.
One of them stepped forward.
"The Flame-Eyed Child," he hissed. "Target identified."
Billionzaruto rose slowly to his feet.
His fists clenched.
Lightning sparked.
"I don't want to fight you," he said, voice trembling despite his best effort.
"You don't have a choice," the assassin replied.
He lunged.
Billionzaruto reacted on instinct—his body vanished in a blur. The ground where he once stood cracked under the shockwave of his sudden movement. He reappeared behind the first assassin, electricity bursting from his fist.
CRACK!
The attacker flew into a stone wall, armor sparking.
More assassins charged.
Billionzaruto dodged left—barely. A blade sliced across his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Pain flared, but adrenaline drowned it instantly. He moved again, faster, pushing his Stormspeed beyond what he had ever attempted.
His body blurred.
Assassins stumbled, unable to track him.
He struck again—lightning-infused punch to the stomach—another to the jaw—another to the ribs. Three enemies fell in seconds.
But for every masked figure he dropped, three more replaced them.
Billionzaruto gritted his teeth. "There's too many…"
He tried to run.
He tried to break through the circle.
But each path was cut off by steel blades and shadows.
A kick caught him in the back, slamming him into the dirt. He rolled just in time to avoid a stabbing strike. He leaped to his feet, panting, sparks falling from his arms like tiny stars.
"You cannot escape," an assassin said, voice low. "Your powers are unstable. Your existence is a threat."
Billionzaruto charged forward in desperation—but he was struck mid-step by a bolt of dark energy that sent him skidding across the ground. His back slammed into the stone monument with a painful crunch.
"Nggh…!"
His vision blurred. The assassins closed in, blades raised.
Fear clawed at his chest.
This is bad… I can't keep up…
He wiped blood from his lip. His hands shook violently.
Then something inside him snapped.
Not physically—emotionally.
A deep, low heat coiled behind his eyes.
A heat he dreaded.
A heat he feared.
A heat he tried to ignore all his life.
But it was waking.
The nearest assassin paused. "His eyes—look at his eyes!"
Billionzaruto felt it spreading—like embers crawling across his vision. He grabbed his head, squeezing tight, trying to force the fire back down.
"No… not now… please—"
But the fire didn't care.
It erupted.
His eyes burst into blazing orange light, flames licking outwards, illuminating the night with an otherworldly glow. The stone beneath him began to heat and crack.
The assassins froze in terror.
"Back away! He's activating Inferno Gaze!"
"Don't let him look directly at you—"
"Retreat! RETREAT—!"
But they were too slow.
The moment Billionzaruto opened his eyes fully, a wave of searing fire exploded from his gaze, sweeping across the battlefield. The heat was fierce—pure, burning rage unleashed. Stone melted. Metal glowed. Air itself shimmered under the intensity.
The assassins screamed as the ground beneath them turned molten red.
Billionzaruto stood surrounded by an inferno, unable to see anything but light and flame. His heart hammered like a drum, his body trembling under the strain of the forbidden power.
The flames dimmed slowly.
His vision faded back to normal.
And he collapsed to his knees, exhausted.
The battlefield was silent.
Every assassin had fallen—some unconscious, some scorched, none willing to rise. Even the storm felt like it was holding its breath.
Billionzaruto panted heavily, his body shaking all over. His eyes stung. His head throbbed painfully. Using Inferno Gaze felt like something was tearing away at his soul.
He looked at his trembling hands, fear creeping into his expression.
"What… have I done?"
But the night did not give him time to think.
Not far away, hidden in the swirling shadows of a collapsed rooftop, a masked figure watched with arms folded. His cloak rippled with strange, dark energy.
"So," the figure whispered, a cold smile behind his mask,
"the prophecy was true."
He turned and vanished into the darkness.
And far below, on the cracked earth, Billionzaruto knelt alone—unaware that his life had just changed forever.
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