One day, a woman named Lotus Lightwing gave birth. The doctor, holding the newborn, announced, "It's a boy, Miss Lotus."

Lotus smiled softly. and said, "He's beautiful," Lotus said. "I think I'm going to name him—"

Before she could finish, A purple flash caught her attention. Horror spread across her face.

"His alignment is Kage," she whispered, trembling.

In a panic, Lotus screamed and threw her son to the floor. The baby started to cry as his father, Aster Lightwing, burst into the room.

"What's happening? Why is our son on the floor?" Aster demanded.

"His... his alignment is Kage," Lotus stammered, fear evident in her voice.

Aster's face twisted in shock. "What? How? No one can know about this."

Desperate, Aster grabbed the boy and took him to a dungeon, intent on killing him. 

He tried stabbing him, but the dagger broke. 

He tried drowning him, but the tank shattered. He tried shooting him in the head, but the bullet turned to dust upon impact.

 Finally, defeated, Aster abandoned the child in the forest, hoping he would die.

Miraculously, a young boy named Imo and his mother Kunimutsu found the baby crying in the bushes.

"Mom, look! It's a baby," Imo exclaimed.

"Oh my God, why would someone leave a baby here?" Kunimutsu wondered aloud.

"Should we take him home?" Imo asked.

"Yes, we will," Kunimutsu decided, picking up the baby and taking him to their kingdom.

The kingdom's people raised the boy, whom they named Zenji.

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the wooden slats of their modest home, casting a warm, golden hue across the floor. Kunimutsu sat beside Zenji, her voice gentle but firm as she guided his hand over the parchment. “Like this, Zenji,” she murmured, her fingers hovering just above his. “Each stroke must have intention, just as each word must carry meaning.”

Zenji’s brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully formed the characters, the ink glistening as it bled into the rice paper.

He glanced up at Kunimitsu, her serene face bathed in the amber light, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

She nodded in approval, and Zenji’s heart swelled with pride.

Later, the rhythmic sound of children’s laughter filtered through the walls of his room. 

Imo’s voice, bold and unrelenting, cut through the gentle hum of the day.

"Zenji! Come out already, you hermit!" Imo shouted, his tone playful but insistent. The door to his room creaked open, and Zenji hesitated on the threshold, uncertain.

Before he could retreat, Imo’s hand grasped his wrist, pulling him into the sunlight. “You can’t hide forever. 

Come play with us!” Zenji stumbled out into the yard, where the other children giggled and cheered, kites soaring high in the air, their tails catching the wind.

Kunimitsu moved through the busy market, her eyes catching the sight of a large, blonde woman working the dough with expert hands. 

The woman’s face was flushed, her ample frame shaking slightly as she kneaded the dough. She smiled broadly as Kunimitsu handed over the coins, passing her three steaming buns, their golden crusts soft and warm to the touch. 

The sweet aroma of red bean paste filled the air as Kunimitsu quickly made her way back, knowing her sons, Imo and Zenji, would be waiting eagerly for the treat.

In the open courtyard, Imo and Zenji stood facing each other, their bodies tense, poised for action. 

Both were drenched in sweat, their muscles rippling as they moved in perfect sync. 

The man watching them, his black hair falling into his sharp blue eyes, shouted commands as the brothers traded blows. 

Imo was quick and precise, his lean body darting around Zenji’s more powerful strikes. Zenji, though heavier and stronger, countered with well-placed punches, the sounds of their bare fists colliding with flesh echoing in the training ground.

Despite the intensity of the sparring, there was a clear bond between them, pushing each other harder but always with a sense of brotherhood.

Later, the village erupted in cheers as the warriors returned from battle. The men were weary, their faces streaked with dirt, their bodies marked with fresh bruises and cuts.

Also, Zenji and Imo would study science such as biology, chemistry, Physics and Natural science even tho Imo hated it, Zenji loved and enjoyed learning about science.

On quieter days, Imo and Zenji joined the village children in games of hide and seek.

Their laughter filled the air as they ran through the trees and around old buildings, ducking behind walls and corners.

Imo, always quick on his feet, would hide alongside Zenji, their bond evident even in the playful way they teamed up to outsmart the other children. 

Zenji would press a finger to his lips, and Imo would stifle his laughter, the two of them waiting in silence, enjoying the game as only brothers could.

At night, the two brothers would fall asleep side by side, sharing a small bed in their humble home. Imo's arm would naturally fall over Zenji’s shoulders, a protective gesture that never changed, no matter how old they grew.

12 years later

Imo ( 17 years old)

Zenji ( 12 years old) 

 Imo was deep in training, his breath steady, muscles taut with focus, when a man with a bald head and a long, flowing beard burst into the courtyard, clad in battle-worn armour. 

His voice boomed through the air, thick with urgency.

"We're under attack!"

Before Imo could fully grasp the words, a sharp whistle cut through the air-an arrow pierced the man's skull, his body dropping instantly. 

The world seemed to slow as chaos erupted around Imo.

 A flood of monsters surged into the kingdom, their fangs dripping as they tore through the crowd.

 Screams filled the air as blood stained the stone streets. Imo's heart pounded in his chest as he watched a plump, blonde woman beheaded with a swift swing from a bite, her lifeless body collapsing to the ground.

 He turned, tears streaming silently down his face as he fled. His mind barely registered. The black-haired man with blue eyes got his side chomped out, killing him.

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Children shrieked, some devoured with brutal efficiency, others got their ate, where they stood. Imo forced himself to run, to not look back. 

He reached home, chest heaving as he slammed the door shut behind him, locking it with trembling hands. Kunimitsu, his mother, rushed down the stairs, her face pale but determined. "Good, you're here," she said, her voice sharp. "Take your brother. Go to the basement. Hide!"

Her voice cracked with urgency, but she tried to smile. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. Go, now!"

Imo hesitated, but only for a second. He sprinted up the stairs to Zenji's room, finding his younger brother unconscious, sprawled on the bed. Scooping Zenji up in his arms, Imo's legs shook beneath the weight, but adrenaline pushed him forward. 

As he made his way down the stairs, a piercing scream echoed through the house.

His mother. Imo froze, gripping Zenji tighter.

"Mother, no!" he whispered, his voice breaking as tears blurred his vision. He stumbled to the basement door, shoving it open, and hurriedly placed Zenji down, hiding him beneath a pile of old boxes and tattered sheets.

Imo crouched in the corner, barely daring to breathe. He clamped a hand over his mouth, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. The sound of the monster feet of the floor coming closer.

The sound of objects smashing followed as a monster searched, his fury evident with every crash. Imo's entire body trembled as the steps grew closer. The monster kicked through debris, overturning crates, until finally,

He found him. Imo barely had time to react. The monster used its fangs to rip imo's throat out. a searing pain flooding his senses as he crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. His vision blurred, his strength fading. With his last breath, he whispered,

"God... please protect Zenji..."

Everything went black.

Moments later, Zenji stirred beneath the sheets. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, his mind foggy and disoriented.

As he sat up, his gaze fell upon Imo's lifeless body, blood pooling around him. 

A gasp escaped his lips before it turned into a choked sob. Zenji scrambled to his feet, stumbling out of the basement. He froze at the sight of Kunimitsu's body, her form twisted unnaturally on the floor. The sight was too much-his cries grew louder and desperate.

Zenji ran outside, but what awaited him was no better. The streets were littered with bodies and monsters laughing. Everyone was dead. He fell to his knees, wailing, his voice cracking through the stillness of death. 

A monster screamed, causing the army of monsters to rush toward Zenji, their faces twisted into demon-like smiles, their eyes gleaming with mischief in the evening light. 

Just as a monster's claw’s neared Zenji’s left eye, the sound of a body exploding echoed through the air. His lifeless body hit the ground, its head reduced to nothing.

Another monster screamed.

Suddenly, an undead ice crow, its decaying feathers hanging in ragged clumps, with glowing hollow eyes and jagged talons, flapped its bony wings and landed on his face. The moment it touched him, the crow exploded, covering his face and it froze. His skin froze as he screamed in agony.

The other monster screamed violently  

But before he could act, another crow exploded on his face, reducing him to a headless corpse. 

The remaining monster scrambled to attack, but a murder of undead crows descended upon them, landing on their faces. Panic ensued. Some tried desperately to pry the crows off with their hands, others flailed and accidentally stabbed their comrades. One even tried to stab the crow on his face but ended up killing himself in the struggle. 

Zenji’s eyes drifted back to Kunimitsu's body. In her cold, stiff hands, he saw a purple cloth.

The memory surged forward in his mind: Kunimitsu had once placed a purple robe in a drawer, telling them that if the kingdom were to fall, the last survivors must wear it to honour the fallen.

Imo's voice echoed in Zenji's head from years before. 

"We don't need to worry about that, right Zenji?"

With trembling hands, Zenji approached his mother's body. 

He knelt beside her and gently took the ribbon from her grasp. Tears slid down his face as he held it close. When he wrapped the ribbon around the head, All the crow’s exploded all at once causing the monster’s to fall to the ground with their head frozen and scattered as it hit the ground.

Without looking back, Zenji wandered away from the kingdom aimlessly. After Walking for what felt like hours through the dense woods, his legs finally gave out. Collapsing into the undergrowth, his body too weak to carry on, darkness began to close in around him. Just before he lost consciousness, a shadowy figure emerged from the trees, silent and watching. Hands lifted Zenji from the ground and carried him away.

Zenji's eyes slowly fluttered open, his vision adjusting to the dim light of the room. His body ached, but he had long grown accustomed to the pain. A woman’s voice echoed from the shadows.

Woman: "You’re awake. About time."

She stepped out from the darkness and into the soft glow of the flickering lamp. Her expression was cold, her eyes calculating.

Woman: "Let’s get to the point. You’re now a slave soldier. You’ll train, kill, and do whatever I command. And if you say anything other than 'Yes, ma'am,' I’ll have you executed. Do you understand?"

Zenji's gaze hardened, but he nodded, his voice flat but resolute.

Zenji: "Yes, ma’am."

The woman smirked, satisfied with his obedience. She turned and walked toward the door, the sound of her boots clicking sharply on the floor. With a final glance over her shoulder, she shut the door behind her, leaving Zenji in silence.

The days that followed were pure hell.

Zenji was pushed to his limits—physically, mentally, and emotionally. He trained relentlessly, pounding his fists into blocks of iron until his skin split and his bones ached. No matter how much his hands bled, there was no reprieve. He was forced to run through freezing temperatures, his body numb from the cold and lacking any clothing. Straps of rope bound his wrists as he was struck with wooden mallets, again and again.

He fought in brutal, no-holds-barred battles, returning to his cell each night covered in fresh scars, his body a map of every wound. He was beaten by other slaves, starved for days on end, and still, he survived.

7 years later, everything changed. A slave attempted to attack Zenji, but zenji stood with glowing purple eyes, Smiling.

Zenji ( 19 years old)

The slave, recognizing his new look, froze in terror. They tried to flee, but Zenji reached out with a hand. The slave's body disassembled into fragments, his form dissolving before their eyes. Zenji’s laugh echoed through the room, chilling and unnatural.

A flashback washed over him, and Zenji found himself standing before a tall figure in the dreamscape—a man whose presence felt ancient and overwhelming. The man’s voice was deep, resonating with power.

Man: "I am  Ats’loot. I have seen your pain, all that you have lost. I offer you my power of psychokinesis. Use it to achieve your goals. But know this—once you receive this power, you will be bestowed with the curse of the jesting and The idol of sloth."

The figure turned to dust, and the particles swirled around Zenji’s body, merging with him.

Zenji awoke with a sharp breath, his body tense. He stared at his reflection from a piece of metal on the ground. A smile stretched across his face, unnatural and permanent. No matter how hard he tried to stop it, his lips wouldn’t obey. He whispered the word "bend" under his breath, and the metal bent, as if his mere command held dominion over reality itself.

Zenji: "So... these are my new abilities." He grinned wider. "I can't wait to make everyone pay tomorrow."

Elsewhere, a man with the ears of a wolf entered the woman’s chambers.

His eyes scan the room with a calculating gaze. He was here to buy a slave.

Woman: "This is Taro. One of my strongest slaves."

The man gave a dismissive wave, his expression unchanging.

Man: "No. He’s not what I’m looking for."

Suddenly, a loud scream echoed from one of the rooms. Taro, the woman, and the man rushed toward the sound.

Taro kicked open the door, revealing Zenji standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by disassembled bodies. The sight was horrifying. The woman, her face pale.

The woman barked an order.

Woman: "Taro, kill him!"

But the man raised his hand to stop Taro. He stepped forward, his voice calm but firm.

Man: "I want that one."

The woman frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

Woman: "Are you sure? You want him?"

The man nodded, unfazed.

Man: "Yes."

He walked toward Zenji, his gaze locking with the slave’s unblinking eyes.

Man: "You. What is your name?" Zenji stood still for a moment, the smile never leaving his face. Then, he answered.

Zenji: "My name is Kunimitsu Zenjimo."

The man paused, a slight smile crossing his face.

Man: "What a nice name. My name is Polo." He gave a short nod, as though that explained everything. "I’m going to buy you. Are you ready to leave?"

Zenji: "Yes."

Polo and Zenji left the woman’s lair, stepping out into the cold night. Outside, a car awaited them.

 Polo climbed aboard, and Zenji followed, his new form gleaming in the dim light. 

The woman watched them from the doorway, her face filled with anger due Zenji killing all of her slaves as they departed. The doors close behind them, and carry Zenji toward an uncertain future.