On an ordinary street, everything began with the slightest deviation from reality.
The ground trembled beneath heavy footsteps no one had seen yet—yet everyone felt them. Silence fell for a warped second, as if time itself had stumbled.
*Is this a dream?*
The sound returned… closer. Heavier.
Then he appeared.
A masked man—not walking, but imposing his existence. Each step he took was enough to plant fear deep within every heart.
On his wrist, a dark bracelet pulsed… then its form tore apart.
He transformed.
Fenrin was no longer human. A violet aura coiled around him like smoke, and a skull-shaped mask settled over his face, frozen in a cold, merciless grin.
Chaos… was only the beginning.
And then, the world collapsed.
The sky rained fire. Meteors ripped through the air, leaving behind screams that never had the chance to finish. The earth split open with violent force, swallowing anyone standing upon it without distinction. Winds twisted into a devouring storm, consuming everything in their path, while molten lava crept forward with terrifying inevitability—escape was no longer an option.
Amid this hell, Fenrin floated in eerie calm… watching, as though the destruction were a spectacle meant for his amusement.
He raised his hand.
Four fleeing figures froze mid-step—then were dragged toward him, as if their very will had been stripped away.
They screamed.
And then… everything changed.
Their bodies twisted, stretched, their features shattered—until nothing human remained.
Monsters.
Hungry monsters.
Fenrin smiled.
"Destroy."
And the catastrophe began anew.
The army arrived in armored convoys, sealing off the area with cold precision—as if they were surrounding a nightmare that could still be contained.
Engines roared. Weapons locked into place.
"Surrender!" the commander shouted.
The echo sounded… fragile.
Fenrin didn't move. He only looked.
Then—he struck the ground.
A single موجة shattered all balance. Tanks flipped like empty cans, and the air erupted into a dark cyclone that swallowed the soldiers without a trace.
Silence returned… heavier than before.
The cameras were still rolling.
The world was watching.
Fenrin slowly lifted his head. When he spoke, his voice was low—carrying something caught between sorrow and terror:
"Bring me the fifteen Orizon… or this is only the beginning."
Not a threat.
A fact.
Then he rose—piercing through the clouds as if he belonged to them.
Lightning gathered around him, threads of energy weaving into a pulsing structure. The winds compressed, turning into a near-solid mass that coiled and formed—like a throne taking shape.
The cold drained the warmth from the air in an instant. Everything froze into a harsh, glass-like stillness… unbreakable.
The throne was formed.
He sat.
Above the sky. Above fear… above the laws themselves.
And beneath him, Cairo burned slowly—groaning… like a city that had realized it had been left alone.
Fenrin's memory carried a silence older than time itself—a silence that was not emptiness, but a witness to the first truth.
In the beginning, the Orizon were not fifteen scattered relics, but a single cosmic entity—pulsing with a primordial force that held the balance of dimensions between light and darkness.
But humanity's betrayal split it apart. Its power shattered into fifteen fragments, entrusted across the ages to the Orizon leaders, each sworn to guard a piece of what had once been whole.
Then came the night when reality itself broke.
A black rift tore open, and chaos bled from it like a wound that would not heal. The leaders faltered. Armies collapsed.
And in that moment—one of them stepped forward.
Alone.
She entered the rift… and sealed it with her own soul.
What she left behind was not despair—but a quiet smile, and a whisper meant only for Fenrin:
*"The world deserves to continue."*
From that moment on, Fenrin understood.
Balance would never return… unless the Orizon were made whole again.
And so, they named him a traitor.
He did not flinch.
He raised his eyes to them—and with a cold, aching resolve, declared that he would restore what was broken…
Even if he had to shatter the entire world first.
On the morning of that day—ten hours before Fenrin's attack—at exactly seven o'clock, Bebo woke from an old dream that had never lost its ability to wound.
His messy black hair fell over his anxious blue eyes, which darted restlessly, as if searching for something that wasn't there.
It pulled him back to the moment time had failed to erase: a younger Bebo, standing in front of his house, watching his parents return from a trip in their car—until, in the middle of the road, the unexpected erupted. Flames devoured everything.
He was only six when he saw them die.
Since that day, sleep had never been rest—only a door that opened onto loss, again and again.
With effort, he tore himself away from the nightmare and headed to school, trying to force his memories into silence. He walked upright, but the tension betrayed him—in the hesitation of his steps, in the quiet weight of his gaze.
But reality was far too cruel to ignore.
At the school gate stood Claude—blond hair, sharp features—his arms crossed before he lunged without warning. His eyes carried that familiar mocking glint as he rained blows down on a frail student, then threw him against the wall as if he were nothing.
Bebo stopped on the opposite sidewalk.
He hesitated.
This time, he wasn't the target. He could have walked away.
But something inside him—something deeper than fear—refused to let the moment pass.
He let out a slow breath… then grabbed a milk carton and hurled it with precise aim.
It burst directly over Claude's head.
For a brief instant, Claude froze—his expression cracking, his confidence faltering.
And in that single moment of shock, Bebo moved.
He rushed forward, seized the student's hand, and the two of them ran—leaving behind splashes of milk… and Claude's rising fury.
As Bebo walked down the school corridor, the noise of students gradually faded in his ears, as if he were sinking into a deeper layer of silence. His anxious blue eyes moved slowly, observing without focus… until Kaito suddenly appeared in front of him.
He stepped closer—dark brown hair, that familiar crooked smile—but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A sharper glint.
"Get ready… today, we're playing detectives."
Bebo blinked, tense. "What?"
Kaito lowered his voice, as if even the walls might be listening. "I saw Hana."
Bebo's breath caught for a fraction of a second.
"She was talking to Claude… and it looked like they're together."
The noise vanished completely.
Hana… with her long blonde hair and those striking red eyes… with Claude?
"Impossible." The word slipped out faster than he intended. "She hates him."
Kaito looked at him quietly, then spoke in a lighter tone—yet it landed heavier than before:
"But she doesn't love you either."
Silence fell between them.
Bebo's hand tightened into a fist without him noticing, his gaze slipping away, avoiding the truth pressing in on him.
But Kaito gave a faint smile and patted his shoulder.
"No matter what happens… I'm with you to the end."
The school courtyard buzzed as usual—voices overlapping like restless waves—but Hana moved through it as if she didn't belong to the noise at all.
Her golden hair flowed softly over her shoulders, and her crimson eyes gleamed with a distant, unreadable coolness. Admirers drifted toward her, but she slipped past them with effortless grace—quick steps, light turns—then a subtle leap that carried her between bodies like a passing breeze, untouchable.
Moments later, she was inside her classroom, the door closing quietly behind her.
She walked to the window, resting her fingertips lightly against the glass, gazing out at the courtyard with unmistakable boredom. There, she spotted Bebo helping a younger student.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"The school is boring…" she murmured to herself. "I want a real adventure."
She had barely finished speaking when Akani appeared beside her, camera in hand as always, her presence as precise as the schedule she carried—interviews, training sessions, language lessons… a life far too structured for the daughter of a world-famous actor.
Hana let out a quiet sigh, a trace of envy in her voice.
"I wish I were like your boyfriend."
Akani lifted her chin with pride, launching into praise—Kaito's achievements, his recent cooperation with the police, taking down criminals on his own.
At that, Hana's lips curved into something more cunning.
She kept her eyes on the world beyond the glass.
"Looks like it's starting."
A quiet stillness settled over the ancient Nakamura Dojo—a calm that seemed pure, yet carried a tension woven into every movement. Feet met the wooden floor in measured rhythm, breaths controlled, as if the place itself were watching.
At the front stood Haguro, unmoving—like a root buried deep in time. His sharp eyes swept over every detail, missing nothing.
Off to one side, Hana moved with fluid grace. Her steps were precise, her body flowing ahead of thought, as though she had been born to master this rhythm.
Not far away, Bebo stood in silence. His black hair fell over his anxious blue eyes as he watched her with quiet admiration, convincing himself his unease went unnoticed.
Then—
The stillness shattered.
A sharp alarm tore through the air.
Heads turned toward the television, where a scene unfolded that felt unreal: Cairo burning, the sky raining fire, buildings collapsing beneath the shadow of Fenrin—floating above the destruction as if it all belonged to him.
The students trembled.
Haguro did not move.
With decisive calm, he ordered them to leave. And when the hall emptied, he stopped Hana alone.
A hidden wall slid open without a sound. From the darkness, an old box emerged.
He opened it.
Inside lay a bracelet… pulsing with something unknown.
He extended it toward her.
"Power is not a gift… it is a responsibility."
Her gaze froze. "I don't understand."
He looked at her—deeply—and said:
"The explanation… will take time."
The city was drowning in blind chaos.
Black smoke clawed its way into the sky, as if proclaiming the end of the world. Streets lay fractured, devouring what little light remained. Screams tangled with the thunder of explosions, buried beneath collapsing ruins that showed no mercy.
And at the heart of this hell—
Fenrin floated.
Calm. Untouched.
A violet aura surrounded him like a crown of ruin, while his four beasts rampaged through the streets—tearing through cars, shattering walls, their roars shaking not just the body, but the soul itself.
At the edge of a half-collapsed street, Hana stood frozen, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the devastation.
Then—
The bracelet on her wrist flared to life.
A searing heat surged through it, and a violent wave of light burst forth, spiraling around her body like a storm of elements. Her mind trembled—
And a voice echoed deep within her:
*Orizon of Elements… activated.*
Knowledge flooded her consciousness—like rivers of fire, water, and wind crashing into her all at once.
When the light finally faded… Hana was gone.
In her place stood Ira.
Long white hair. Crimson eyes. A black combat suit veined with pulsing red lines, as if power itself ran beneath her skin.
She moved.
In an instant, she rushed toward a trapped little girl, placing herself between the child and the monster—her body unyielding, incapable of retreat.
The air shifted.
A shield formed—woven from wind, fire, and water—and in the next heartbeat, elemental meteors crashed down upon the beasts with explosive force.
Ira lifted her head.
Her gaze locked onto Fenrin.
"I will do everything in my power… to defeat you."
Motion erupted without warning.
Ira surged toward the four beasts, the air tearing around her with a sharp, piercing shriek. Her movements weren't perfect—but they were fast, relentless… like someone who fought before she had time to think.
The bracelet pulsed against her wrist, and a clear voice echoed within:
**"Close the distance… strike now."**
She raised her hand—
Lightning burst from her palm, slamming straight into one of the beasts. At the same time, the wind drove her body forward, slipping her past a descending claw by a hair's breadth. Water coiled around her arm like a living wave, and she struck—hard enough to force the creature back.
"Why are you doing this?!" Ira shouted, her breath uneven, her crimson eyes locked onto Fenrin.
He didn't answer.
He simply… watched.
Silently observing her, he thought with cold clarity:
*Not just a bearer… but a manifestation of the Orizon.*
The bracelet trembled again:
**"Danger… partial retreat."**
She didn't stop.
She leapt—closing in further. Her attacks were short, direct, built for close range. Every strike carried an unrefined surge of power, raw and incomplete.
Fenrin prepared to strike back—
Then—
He stopped.
A sharp pain pierced his chest.
A voice crackled through his earpiece:
"The artificial Orizon is unstable. Your power is consuming your life. Reduce output immediately."
He exhaled slowly… and lowered his hand.
"Korina… can it be removed from her?"
A pause.
"It cannot be taken… unless she reverts to her original state before transformation. That will only happen when her energy is depleted—after fifteen minutes."
Silence returned.
And above the burning city…
Ira kept fighting.
Against time.
Got it—this version needed more polish and consistency. Here's a refined translation with tighter prose, cleaner imagery, and a more natural Webnovel flow:
---
Amid shattered streets and crawling smoke, Ira moved forward with steady steps—despite the tremor in her breath. Around her, a volatile storm of elemental energy swirled, forming an incomplete, flickering shield.
The bracelet on her wrist throbbed, a sharp voice cutting through her mind:
**"Stabilize your distance… move in… control comes first."**
The first beast lunged, its roar shaking the ruins as its claws tore through the air toward her.
She didn't step back.
Her hand snapped upward—water surged forth, coiling around the creature in a violent vortex. It dragged inward, compressed—then, with a tightening motion of her fist, froze solid.
Ice sealed around it.
A prison.
**"Partial success… behind you."**
Too late.
The other three attacked at once.
The ground shuddered beneath their charge. The air fractured from the force. In a single instant, Ira vanished into a cloud of dust and debris.
Then—
She emerged.
Close. Dangerously close.
A blade formed in her grasp—molten, radiant, shaped from falling embers—and she swung in a direct arc. Fire carved through the haze, followed by a sharp, echoing cry of pain.
But it wasn't enough.
She was still… inexperienced.
A brutal удар struck from the side before she could recover.
The impact sent her crashing across the ground. She tumbled through broken stone, the bracelet's voice tearing through her mind:
**"Warning… critical damage… stand up!"**
She didn't.
Not immediately.
There—half-buried in the rubble—
Something caught her eye.
A broken toy.
Small. Cracked. Forgotten.
Her hand reached out instinctively. She picked it up… and tightened her grip, as if anchoring herself to something beyond the chaos.
Cameras captured the moment.
A trembling voice echoed through the broadcast:
"She's… still holding on to hope… even now."
Slowly—
Painfully—
She tried to rise.
What remained of her power surged outward. Lightning split the sky. Flames erupted from the fractured
earth
.
But the beasts… did not retreat.
They struck together.
From every direction.
Blow after blow crashed into her—until the final impact hurled her بعيدًا once more.
She fell.
Breath ragged. Vision fading.
Her body refused to move.
Inside her mind, she screamed at herself to stand—but nothing answered.
Nothing… except her hand.
Still clenched.
Still holding the toy.
And the city—
watched in silence.