"Five hundred years ago, the very country of Japan that we all live in didn't exist. There was only Solathis." Grandmaster Han let the word hang in the air. "The world was filled with dangerous beasts, and the human race had no way of protecting themselves. Until one day, a lone warrior appeared that nobody knew."
Han paused. The training hall was quiet except for his voice. Seven teenagers sat on the practice mats, still damp with sweat, wooden bokken racked along the walls behind them.
"The warrior had many abilities. Fire. Water. Light. Dark. Even blood manipulation. He was like a god sent to save the human race from extinction." Han straightened his back. "And one day, that warrior stood before an apex demon. Its body was the size of a mountain — large enough to block out the sky. Six arms, each one carving trenches in the earth just from moving. And you know what the warrior did?"
"Ran," someone muttered. A few of the students laughed.
Han pointed at the boy. "Smart. That's what any sane person would do. But this warrior was not a sane person."
He lowered his voice.
"The warrior removed his helmet, and long white hair fell to his chest. His eyes glowed green. Bright, like something burning behind them. He drew a long katana from its sheath and took a single breath."
The students leaned in without realizing it.
"When the demon lunged, the warrior didn't move. Not until the claws were inches from his face. Then he was gone." Han snapped his fingers. "He appeared above the demon. Floating. Katana still in hand. A dark aura began to shroud the blade, and he slashed. Once. The demon's head fell before it knew what happened."
Han made the motion. A single horizontal slash, slow and precise.
"But the body kept thrashing. Still dangerous. Still alive in pieces. So the warrior raised his hand toward it, and the blood — all of it — began to rush out of the demon's body. Every drop. Until the thing was dry. A husk. And it collapsed."
Silence.
Nobody moved. Then one of the boys exhaled.
"Was he real? The warrior?"
Han smiled. "Yes," Han said. "He was real."
The students shifted. Han let the silence hold for a moment longer.
"After defeating the major beasts of the world, the warrior vanished. No warning. No farewell. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. Nobody ever saw him again." Han looked across the room slowly. "But after his disappearance, something changed. People began to awaken — ordinary men and women, developing abilities. Fire. Healing. Blood manipulation. Powers similar to the warrior's, scattered across the human race like seeds he'd left behind."
Blaze sat at the edge of the group, eating his fourth onigiri. His fingers were thin and pale against the dark seaweed wrapping — the kind of boy a strong wind might carry away.
"Now, that's enough for today," Han said. "Go home. Your mothers will blame me if you're late again, and I'm too old to fight mothers."
The young teens groaned and stretched, pulling themselves off the mats. Blaze didn't move. He reached for his fifth onigiri, shoved it in his mouth. Behind him, an argument was already building.
"It's your turn to put the mats away."
"You think you can tell me what to do? You can't even beat me in sparring."
The two boys were identical twins — jet black hair, both tall for sixteen. Neo stepped up to his brother, close enough that their foreheads nearly touched. But before he could say a word, Haze shoved him. Hard. Neo only rocked back one step. He chuckled. His fist balled up.
Then Sayuri was between them.
"Can you guys stop being so immature?"
She punched them both on the top of the head.
Blaze watched from where he sat and let out a chuckle. Sayuri was the most popular student in the training hall. Every elder said the same thing — she had the potential to be one of the strongest hemomancers in the whole clan. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear as she scolded the twins, and Blaze looked away. He'd stopped letting himself think like that a long time ago. Not with this body.
"Hey! What the hell are you laughing at, Blaze?"
The shout knocked him out of it. Neo was glaring at him from across the room.
Blaze almost choked on the onigiri. In a flash, Neo was already beside him. He snatched the remaining rice balls from Blaze's hands.
"Every time I see you, you're always eating and hardly even training."
Neo put his hand on top of Blaze's head and ruffled his white hair. Blaze just sat there. He knew there wasn't much he could do. Neo wasn't smart, but he was strong, and fighting back would only leave Blaze more broken than the earlier training already had.
Then Haze walked up and snatched the onigiri out of Neo's hand. He bit into one.
"Don't you know Blaze is Elder Han's only grandchild? You shouldn't pick on him."
He kept eating as he said it.
"You're right, Haze. I forgot — he doesn't have parents." Neo tilted his head. "Whatever happened to them? Wait, I remember. Weren't they—"
Blaze's fist clenched. His nails dug into his own palm until the skin split. Blood ran down his fingers and dripped to the floor. Where it landed, it didn't pool. It rose. Shaped itself. A small dagger, just long enough to fit his hand.
Blaze gripped it, kicked off the ground, and tore free from Neo's hand on his head. He spun. One slash. The blade caught Neo just below the eye.
Blaze landed a few feet from the brothers, low and breathing hard.
"Watch your damn mouth."
Neo touched his face. His fingers came away red. Something shifted behind his eyes.
"You skinny fucking brat. I'm going to kill you."
The blood running down Neo's cheek began to pour faster — too fast. It streamed down to his hands, coated them, and spread until no skin was visible. Then it hardened. Neo punched his fists together. The sound was like stone on stone.
"I've been waiting a long time to pummel you."
He kicked off the ground and lunged. But before he could close the distance—
"Didn't I tell you all to go home already?"
The voice cut through the room. Han stood in the doorway.
"You all know the consequences of fighting outside of training."
Neo stopped mid-stride. The hardened blood around his hands began to soften, liquify, and stream back up his arms to the open wound beneath his eye. The cut sealed shut like it had never been there.
"Sorry, Elder Han," Neo said, scratching the back of his head. "We weren't fighting. Blaze was just showing us some new blood manipulation skills he learned." He glanced over his shoulder. "Isn't that right, Blaze?"
Blaze stared at him. A long second passed.
"Yeah."
Han looked across the room. Every student wore a different expression. None of them held his gaze.
"Okay then. I'll see you all tomorrow. Nine sharp."
They filed out one by one until only Blaze remained. He pulled a piece of candy from his pocket and popped it into his mouth.
"You know I don't need you to always protect me." He spoke without looking at Han. "I had it under control."
Han laughed.
"I'm sure you did, my child. But this wasn't the place to showcase your skills." He paused. "If you want to do that, enter the Taikai Tournament tomorrow."
"Not interested."
Han's smile didn't falter. He let the silence sit for a moment.
"Okay. Well, get some sleep."
He turned and started toward the door.
"Wait."
Han stopped.
"The warrior," Blaze said. "What happened to him after?"
"After what?"
"After he killed the demon."
Han was quiet for a moment. His hand rested on the door.
"He lived on."
The door closed behind him.
"Damn old fart," Blaze muttered. "Always answering in riddles."
He yawned. His body ached more than he wanted to admit. He grabbed his bag and left the training hall.
*
The planet was red. Not the red of sunsets or autumn — the red of something dried and dead. Orange dust stretched in every direction beneath a dim, rust-colored sky. A spaceship sat on the cracked ground before a palace of black stone, its doors blown open.
Inside, bodies littered the floors. Dozens of them. Humanoid creatures with scaled skin and long limbs — lizard-like, but upright. Their green blood pooled between the cracks in the tile.
A tall figure moved through the carnage. His body was shrouded in pitch-black aura so dense that nothing was visible beneath it — no face, no features. Only one arm extended from the darkness, and at the end of it, a golden-scaled lizard hung by its throat.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know who you're talking about," the golden lizard choked. Green blood spattered from its mouth.
The figure squeezed tighter. The lizard's legs kicked once, twice, then went still — not dead, just out of air.
The figure snapped his fingers with his free hand. Two more shapes materialized beside him, both cloaked in the same darkness. Gray halos hovered above their heads, turning slowly.
One of them held a young golden lizard by the arm. A child.
"No!" The golden lizard thrashed in the figure's grip. "Let him go!"
"Then tell me where Han is."