As Noah awoke, he instinctively clutched his chest, feeling the eerie absence of the gaping wound that had once torn through him. The searing pain was gone, replaced by an unsettling emptiness. But as he lifted his gaze, horror washed over him: his home, a once-familiar sanctuary, was now engulfed in towering flames, the inferno dancing with malevolent glee.

“No, no…” Noah gasped, panic clawing at his throat as he stumbled to his feet, the heat of the blaze searing his skin. He fought against the encroaching dread, the world around him spinning with the chaos of destruction.

“Don’t bother, young Fafnir,” a voice interjected, smooth and mocking. Noah turned to find a boy standing before him, clad in a flowing robe that shimmered like liquid starlight. His eyes, bright with an unnatural light, held a weight that seemed to press down on Noah's heart. “Your parents are dead, and Isaac has escaped. You couldn’t change anything, even if you wanted to.”

“Who are you?” Noah demanded, his voice trembling but defiant, desperation fueling his words.

“Me?” The boy smiled, an enigmatic grin that held both warmth and something darker. “You may call me Lux. To put it bluntly, I am the god of hope. And you, my dear, are destined to be this era’s hero, the one who shall save it from the impending apocalypse.”

As Lux spoke, the flames cast eerie shadows across Noah's face, illuminating the stark realization of his loss and the weight of the path laid before him. The world around him crackled with despair, but Lux’s presence was a flicker of light amid the darkness, promising purpose in the wake of devastation.

“How blasphemous! I don’t see a cross around your neck,” Lux lamented, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “I’m the only god with an established church, and you, of all heroes, are the first to not actively worship me. I must admit, it saddens me.”

“I’m sorry,” Noah replied, his voice strained, “but I didn’t think to wear it while hunting. I didn’t want it to get dirty.”

“Ah, I take no offense to my emblem getting sullied. Hope shines brightest when cloaked in despair,” Lux mused, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” Noah said, his brow furrowed with confusion. “But why did you choose me? I’m not exactly a beacon of health right now. I don’t even have an ability.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you have an ability,” Lux countered, tilting his head, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“What are you talking about?” Noah asked, bewildered.

Lux stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the dark spots scattered across Noah’s arm. “These black spots—these are your ability. It’s called The Ladybug. A truly exquisite gift, if I do say so. It absorbs the pain and suffering of those around you and stores it within your body. Your territory has flourished because of it, but your declining health… that’s a direct result of your sacrifice.”

Tears welled in Noah’s eyes as he processed Lux’s words. “I see. I’m glad I could be of use. A true hero should sacrifice himself for others,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

“I agree,” Lux said, his tone shifting to one of admiration. “It seems I’ve chosen the perfect candidate. However, I’ve made a slight alteration to your ability to make it less likely to kill you. Now, hold out your arm and channel your mana into the spots.”

With a mix of trepidation and determination, Noah followed Lux’s instructions. As he concentrated, a bolt of darkness surged from his arm, tearing through the air and obliterating a nearby tree with a violent crack.

“I did that?” Noah gasped, astonishment mingling with hope.

“Of course! I couldn’t allow my hero to be useless,” Lux replied, his voice filled with pride.

“Damn it! If only I had this power earlier, I could’ve stopped those bastards!” Noah cried, fresh tears streaming down his face.

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,” Lux chided gently. “Even in this state, you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. It will take time, training, and practice to truly harness your ability.”

As Noah gazed at the remnants of the shattered tree, a flicker of resolve ignited within him. He may have been battered and broken, but now, he held the potential to rise from the ashes and reclaim his destiny.

“Alright, we’ll wait here,” Lux declared, his tone firm yet strangely comforting. “I don’t plan to return until those crows are dealt with. It would be a shame for my hero to perish so soon.”

“I can’t just sit back and let it end like this,” Noah insisted, urgency lacing his words as he struggled to his feet.

“What a troublesome brat I’ve acquired,” Lux sighed, shaking his head with a hint of exasperation. “But very well, I’ll keep watch over you.”

Meanwhile, Inari trudged back to Blank, his expression heavy with regret. “I’m sorry, sir, but the kid got away,” he reported, his shoulders slumping.

“I should have brought all the commanders here,” Blank muttered, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “This mission was crucial.”

“They all have difficult personalities, sir,” Inari reminded him, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re fortunate that Faker was so cooperative.”

“You’re right,” Blank conceded, exhaling slowly. “But still, the fact that we stopped that damned god from securing a new hero candidate is an accomplishment in itself.”

A smirk tugged at Inari’s lips. “I imagine Labyrinth is on the verge of tears as she watches over that corpse. I should go make sure she is alright, is there anything else you need to take care of?”

“Just one more thing, you may go join her” Blank replied, his gaze narrowing as Inari left the manor.

Outside, he found Faker sitting on the ground, boredom etched across his features. As expected, Labyrinth hovered nearby, her face streaked with tears, trembling as she stared at the lifeless body before her.

Moments later, Blank joined them, his demeanor shifting as he cradled the unconscious body of Isabelle in his arms. “It’s time to move,” he announced, his voice cold and commanding. “Faker, carry the corpse. Viper will be delighted with his new meal.”

Suddenly, a bolt of darkness shot through the air, striking Blank squarely in the leg. He stumbled, pain flaring as his leg was severed. But with a swift motion, he healed the wound, his expression a mask of irritation as he readjusted his balance.

“Who dares—” Blank growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated with malice as he scanned the area, fury igniting like a wildfire in his eyes.

“I won’t let you get away, you bastard!” Noah yelled, his heart racing as he summoned a bolt of dark energy. The power crackled in his palms, fueled by a tempest of rage and despair, as his memories of loss and helplessness surged to the forefront.

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that,” Blank sneered, a twisted smile spreading across his face. He thrust Isabelle forward, using her as a shield. “It would be a shame if your poor sister got harmed.”

“No! You monster!” Noah screamed, his voice thick with anguish. Each word felt like daggers piercing through him, the sight of his sister trembling in Blank's grip igniting a wildfire of fury within him. “I won’t let you get away with this!”

“Oh, but you will,” Blank replied, his tone chillingly indifferent. “I’m not in the mood to kill a brat who has already died once. Nor am I interested in battling one of the five primordial gods. Let us end this now. I’m quite certain we will meet again, failure of the Fafnir family.”

“Labyrinth, open a gate for us,” Blank ordered, his words devoid of emotion.

With every ounce of strength she could muster, Labyrinth conjured a large, swirling portal, a shimmering vortex of colors that seemed to pulse with desperation. One by one, the other members stepped through, leaving Noah to face the void of his loss.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Blank paused at the threshold, glancing back at Noah with a cruel grin. “I do hope we meet again. Watching you die a second time will be quite enjoyable.”

“No matter where you go, I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth!” Noah yelled, his voice breaking with emotion, raw and unyielding. “I’ll kill each and every one of you! I promise you that!” But as Blank and his crows vanished into the portal, Noah felt a hollowness settle within him, the weight of his words almost too much to bear.

“Mom, I need to check on Mom!” Noah cried out, desperation clawing at his throat as he raced back into the house, fear propelling him forward.

“That boy… so full of energy now that he has a purpose,” Lux murmured, shaking his head with a hint of admiration tinged with sadness.

Entering the room, Lux found Noah on his knees, tears streaming down his face, his breath hitching in disbelief as he stared at his mother’s headless body sprawled on the floor. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and ash, a stark reminder of the brutality that had just unfolded.

“Lux? I have a question,” Noah's voice trembled as he looked up, eyes glistening with grief and fury. “Is it wrong for a hero to be filled with such an intense desire to kill? An even greater desire than to save others?”

“There is nothing wrong with what you’re feeling right now,” Lux replied gently, his voice steady and reassuring. “Harness this fury, Noah. Remember what that man took from you. Let it fuel your resolve.”

“I will, I will! I’ll never forget!” Noah vowed, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms, the pain grounding him in the reality of his grief. The fire in his heart blazed brighter, a dark promise forged in anguish and determination. He would rise from this, stronger than before. He would make them pay.

Isaac awoke to the faint scent of antiseptic and the dim light filtering through cracked, dusty windows. He found himself lying on a rickety cot in what looked like a nurse’s office, its paint peeling and shelves cluttered with outdated potion bottles. The room’s neglected state hinted at the humble resources of wherever he had ended up. As his eyes adjusted, he shifted and noticed a boy sitting nearby with messy crimson hair and piercing, draconic eyes of the same shade. A black face mask covered much of the boy’s face, as if he was uncomfortable or reluctant to show more of himself.

“Where am I?” Isaac murmured, trying to process his disorientation.

The boy looked over, his gaze calculating but warm. “I heard we were getting a new kid,” he replied with a casual shrug. “Name’s Karma. Welcome to Sunshine Orphanage. Currently, we’re on the continent of Midgard.”

Isaac’s stomach dropped as Karma’s words sank in. “Midgard? That’s… an entirely different continent. How…? My family… they’re all gone, and I’m here on the other side of the world. I was on Álfheimr… how did I end up here?” His voice quivered as fragments of his last memories flooded back to him, the horror of that night still fresh and vivid.

Karma nodded knowingly, his expression hidden behind the mask but his eyes reflecting a glint of understanding. “Most of us got here in strange ways. I was living in a forest on the continent of Helheim before I ended up here. I was… well, let’s say in a rough spot, being attacked by a monster. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in this orphanage.”

Isaac’s head spun, grappling with this whirlwind of new information. “There’s… so much to process here,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Karma sighed, his posture slightly slumped. “Yeah, I get it. Been here just a week myself, and it’s still weird.”

Before Isaac could say more, the door creaked open, and an elderly woman shuffled in with a warm smile. She was diminutive but carried an air of gentle authority. Her face was deeply lined, her neon-green eyes bright and sharp beneath her long, white hair. She leaned on a cane adorned with a snake motif, its emerald eyes carved to glimmer in the faint light. The woman wore a faded brown dress, and a spiderweb tattoo adorned her hand, a subtle reminder that perhaps she was more than met the eye.

“Welcome to my orphanage, young one,” she said, her voice soft yet filled with an undeniable strength. She gave Isaac a nod of encouragement. “I’m Agatha, though the children call me Granny. You must have so many questions, dear. You’re safe here, as safe as one can be in this place.”

Isaac glanced between Agatha and Karma, trying to grasp this strange new reality, feeling like he’d been thrown into a world he barely recognized, yet somehow, he felt a flicker of safety in their presence.

“Thank you… Granny,” he murmured, the weight of everything beginning to settle heavily upon him. He might be far from his old life, but a small part of him dared to hope that perhaps, here in this unfamiliar place, he might find a way to start anew.

“First of all, Karma, how many times do I have to tell you to stop picking fights you can’t win?” Agatha scolded, swinging her cane to land a light yet sharp tap on Karma’s head.

“Ow! What the—” Karma hissed, rubbing the sore spot.

“Language, Karma,” Agatha said with an unyielding glare, one that spoke of countless past warnings.

As Karma grumbled under his breath, Agatha turned back to Isaac, her expression softening with sympathy. “Welcome to my orphanage, Isaac. After the attack on your home… a friend brought you here for safety,” she said gently, the warmth of her tone did little to mask the gravity of her words.

Isaac’s face fell as her words pierced him. “What am I doing here? My family… my family, they need me—” His voice cracked, his eyes flooding with tears as the realization began to settle.

Agatha placed a hand on his shoulder, her face a mask of sympathy, though a shadow lingered in her gaze. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. There were no survivors. They’re… they’re all gone.”

Isaac choked back a sob, his face contorted with pain as despair hit him like a storm. A numbness began to settle, his grief quickly morphing into a blazing anger.

After a moment of silence, Agatha’s voice dropped to a whisper, edged with a hint of darkness. “Would you like revenge?”

Isaac’s head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes burning with a newfound fury. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling but resolute. “Absolutely.”

Agatha’s gaze hardened, her eyes flashing with a sharp intensity. “Then listen well, Isaac. You will spend the next seven years here, training harder than you’ve ever known. And when you’re of age, you’ll take the entrance exam to the Hero’s Academy in Castletown. There, you will continue to grow stronger—strong enough to find and face the ones responsible for this tragedy.”

Isaac’s determination solidified, his grief and anger twisting into a fierce resolve. “But… can I pass the entrance exam?” he asked, doubt flickering in his voice.

Agatha leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Let me share a little secret. This orphanage is funded by the academy’s headmaster himself. He values my word, and as long as I say you’re trained well enough, you’ll get in—no matter how you score on the entrance exam.”

Isaac nodded, his jaw set with grim determination. “I’ll make sure to give you results that speak for themselves. I won’t just pass; I’ll be the top-ranked candidate. I’ll grow stronger than any of them. I’ll find them… and I’ll kill those bastards.”

Agatha’s face softened, though her cane came down sharply on his shoulder in a practiced swing. “Language, Isaac.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isaac muttered, rubbing his shoulder but already lost in thought, his mind a tempest of memories and dark promises.

Isaac turned to Karma, his face filled with grim resolve. “Karma, will you join me? Will you come to Castletown and face this with me?”

Karma raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I’ve known you for less than five minutes.”

“Fair point,” Isaac replied with a determined grin. “But I’m serious. Will you?”

Before Karma could answer, Agatha’s voice cut through, her tone firm. “I should mention that neither of you has a choice in the matter. Both of you will go to Castletown and train to become the heroes you need to be.”

Karma sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yes, Granny, I’ll go.”

“Good. I expect both of you to grow stronger than you ever imagined,” she said, nodding with a knowing smile, before adding softly, “Rest up while you can.”

She walked away, leaving Isaac and Karma in silence, each feeling the weight of the journey ahead.

Moments later, Agatha entered her office, her demeanor shifting as she closed the door behind her. A figure awaited her in the dim room, a man, his legs kicked up on her desk, lounging with an unsettling ease. His face was half-lit, revealing an amused grin as he watched her enter. It was the same man who had brought Isaac here.

“Thank you for taking care of those two,” Ashe said, eyes glinting with a sinister amusement. “I’m quite excited to see how they develop.”

Agatha placed a hand on her chest and bowed her head with practiced reverence. The spiderweb tattoo on her hand began to glow faintly, pulsing with a dark purple light. “Of course, my lord. I am here to assist you in any way possible.”

Ashe chuckled, clearly enjoying the show of devotion. “It’s always so satisfying to have a… useful apostle.”

Agatha’s eyes gleamed as she lowered herself to a half-kneel, her age making it difficult. She winced, pain flickering across her face. “I serve you gladly, Lord Ashe, greatest of the gods, bearer of Despair.”

He leaned forward, almost mockingly concerned. “Please, don’t strain yourself on my behalf, Agatha. You’re one of the few humans whose despair I don’t relish.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, her voice filled with reverence, though a strange bitterness lurked behind her words. “You truly are magnificent.”

Ashe's gaze darkened, his tone dropping to a deadly calm. “Just ensure that they’re ready, that they become useful. And, of course”—he tilted his head, his voice dripping with malice—“do not speak to Isaac about his surviving family.”

Agatha’s face stiffened, her expression hidden by shadows as she replied, “Yes, my lord. It will be as you command.”

A twisted smile crossed Ashe’s face, satisfied with her loyalty.

With that, the curtain closed on the opening act. Unseen forces were already weaving threads of destiny around these two brothers—each cast into darkness yet bound by an unbreakable link. Separated by time, by continents, and by cruel fate, Isaac and Noah’s paths had only just begun to diverge.