Long before the kingdoms rose and fell like seasons, humans walked alongside gods—beings of flesh and shadow who guided villages, granted bounties, shielded the weak from storms and beasts. They were protectors, quiet watchers.
Until the darkness came.
It slithered across the land like ink on parchment, swallowing light, twisting life. One by one, the gods vanished—faded into whispers. The people were left staring at empty thrones.
Into that void rose Ekekiri.
Pride etched into his burning-coal eyes, he claimed the shattered kingdom with an iron fist. Mercy was unknown to him. Villages burned for defiance; rivers ran red. He ruled unchallenged, convinced no force could touch him.
Until the old witch.
She appeared one storm-lashed night at his black-stone palace, cloaked in grave-dirt rags. Guards laughed—then choked as vines erupted to strangle them. She strode to the throne room.
Ekekiri smirked from his fused-iron seat. "Speak, hag, before your skull joins my crown."
Her voice rasped like dry leaves. "A child will be born that would lead to your undoing."
He laughed, echoing off walls. "Impossible. No being—god, human, spirit—can stand against Ekekiri."
"They were not," she said calmly. "But soon they will. This child would be born in the white village."
His smile vanished. "Then the white village ends tonight."
By dawn, it was ash. Flames licked the sky as soldiers dragged families into streets, blades flashing. Screams silenced. When the last body fell, a guard knelt.
"As per your wish, my lord. The white village is no more."
Ekekiri smiled, satisfied. The prophecy died with the village.
Or so he believed.
But prophecies have a way of surviving… even when villages burn.
Present day.
Ra'an's fist cracked against Koya's jaw.
She staggered, tasting copper, but straightened, eyes fierce.
"I'm not done yet," she spat.
Ra'an smirked, sidestepped her charge, hooked her foot. She stumbled—light flared weakly around her, silver pulse fading fast.
He blinked beside her, breath hot. "You're done."
He shoved. She hit the mat hard, lungs empty.
Teacher's voice rang out. "Ra'an wins."
Koya pushed up, staring dirt. "Story of my life."
Class filtered out. Koya lingered, wiping blood.
"Koya. Stay behind."
Teacher—tall, silver-haired, flint-eyed—waited.
They faced in the empty hall.
"Why do you think you lost today?"
"Because Ra'an has a flow and I don't."
"Wrong." Teacher stepped closer. "You lost because you'd set your mind on it before the fight started."
Koya frowned. "Set my mind on losing? I don't understand."
The teacher's gaze softened. "No flow is more powerful than another—just wielded by more powerful users. Same with people. No human is born stronger. We grow through hard work, determination… courage. You've got the work, the determination. But courage? Some old stories say courage can awaken what flow never could…
Koya looked away, jaw tight.
Teacher placed a hand on her shoulder. "Unforgettable lessons are learned yourself. Work on your senses. Mastering them might build the courage you need."
Koya walked the corridor, boots echoing.
Koya!
Cal sprinted up, grinning. "Training later?"
"I remember."
"Good." Easy smile. "See you."
In their room, Anna sprawled flipping a manual.
"Welcome back, roomie."
"Thanks."
"So why'd Teacher keep you?"
"She was convincing me I'm not weak. Make me feel good about being flowless."
Anna rolled eyes. " And base on your tone you don't believe her. Come on—she said what I've told you for ages—"
"Can we talk about something else?" Koya snapped.
"Fine. You're so annoying." Anna flopped back. "Oh yeah—tomorrow's First Choice. Can't wait for my awesome item."
Koya sat, staring wall.
Wonder if an item would even choose me.
Later that afternoon, the school training ground smelled of sweat and packed earth.
Koya stood in battle stance, feet planted. "Come at me whenever you're ready."
Cal charged, right fist flying. Koya slipped left, dodged the follow-up, eyes tracking his balance. She stepped in, hooked his arm, used his momentum to flip him hard to the ground.
He landed with a thud, breath whooshing out.
Koya loomed over him. "Why was your movement so clumsy? And your attacks weak? Where you holding back because I'm flowless?"
Cal sat up, rubbing his side, smiling calmly. "Calm down, that's not it. My mind was distracted."
Koya dropped beside him, anger fading to concern. "Why?"
"Was excited for training, but on the way here I kept thinking… tomorrow's the First Choice Ceremony. It freaked me out."
"Everyone's excited about it. Why not you?"
Cal stared at the sky. "I don't want anything to do with the front lines. There's a huge chance a battle item chooses me. I just want to stay back, support from afar."
Koya nodded slowly. "Okay, I get it. But sometimes we don't get what we wish for. Our only option is to adapt and work with what we have."
Cal turned, staring at her a beat too long.
Koya raised a brow. "Why're you looking at me like that?"
"Nothing." A faint blush crept up his neck.
He stood, offering a hand. "You're totally right. Why worry about tomorrow when tomorrow-me can handle it?"
Koya took his hand, giggling despite herself. "Let's continue the training."
Next morning, alarm bird screeched. "Get up, lazy head!"
Anna yanked blanket. "How are you sleeping? You know what today is!" Anna says excitedly...
Chiwura Hall buzzed. Spotlights swept as Golden Guardian stepped up, robes gold-shimmer.
"Welcome to the First Choice Ceremony!"
Cheers erupted.
Four elders entered—light, water, iron, soul robes. Candidates—fifty teens—filed in.
Anna leaned. "So exciting."
"Behave." koya says to her
Golden Guardian raised hands. "Let it begin!"
Ra'an went early. Stood on glowing circle, hand raised, eyes closed. Twin blades materialized, humming.
"Nice," he smirked.
Others went afterwards, sticks, bracelets, rings, swords, Shields chooses them.
Meriosa tall, looks someway like a beast steps on the light and got moonlight claws. Cal got a bow—face fell. No freaking way. Whyyyy?
Anna twirled a staff. "A stick, huh?"
Ra'an passed Koya, muttering loud enough for crowd: "Flowless trash won't even rate a stick. Save us the embarrassment."
Koya clenched fists.
Then koya turn came.
Koya walked, legs heavy.
Step on light, raise hand. Close eyes.
Light sparked—wild, crackling like trapped lightning.
Elders froze. Golden Guardian mouth open.
Ra'an's smirk vanished. Cal eyes wide. Meriosa gripped claws. Anna: "No way…"
Crowd: "No way... Impossible… Crazy!"
Koya opened eyes.
In her hands: ancient iron-black weapon, runes pulsing heartbeats. Ikua's—the god of war's arm, forged by Koruga's sacrifice.
It hummed, warm like heartbeat. Surge hit—not flow, but rawer, angrier. War drums in blood. Fists clenched tighter.
Iron Elder voice cracked: "Impossible. No mortal can wield a god-weapon."
Elders argued. Guards tensed.
Crowd whispers swelled.
Koya stared, stunned.
How is this possible?
To be continued...