On the silent eve of a still night, hot steam blew across an enchanted valley, carrying the stench of burning wood, a strong smell of blood, and a hellish battlefield—littered with broken bodies, discarded weapons, and burnt corpses, stretched as far as the eye could see. Steel clashed against steel, sending cascading sparks into the endless darkness as crimson flames devoured whatever they came in contact with. A young girl with hair like spun moonlight clung desperately to her brother's back as though she was afraid that she might fall into a deep abyss. Though unconscious, her face betrayed her inner struggle—tears streaming down her pale cheeks showing how deep the anguish she felt in her heart was. Holding onto this trembling girl was a young lad, barely thirteen winters old. His once gentle eyes now blazed with fury from watching his entire clan being slaughtered like cattle; their blood could still be smelled as the morning dew approached. Before him, a group of six warriors giving off a bone-chilling energy formed an impenetrable wall. Each encased in salamander-scale armor that gleamed crimson in the fading night light, pools of fresh spilled blood could be seen on their armor while the young lad stood there defiant to their immersed presence. The suits' overlapping plates reflected the endless moonlight, revealing intricate runes etched into each scale—ancient symbols that channeled the essence of the fire-breathing salamander, which evoked the attribute of a rank 5 elemental beast. The scales on the suit were incredibly hard to break and also provided a high level of resistance to flames; despite the size of the suit, it was surprisingly agile and provided a boost in strength. An elderly man with paper-thin skin stretched over a frame that seemed too frail to support the weight of his elaborate silk robes. His years of battles could be seen on the crisscrossing scars on his face, each warrior—each a master in their own right—bowed their heads as he approached with measured, deliberate steps. "Little one, I suggest that you come with us, and keep in mind there is still someone you need to protect in this world." The old man was right; listening to the shallow breath of the young girl behind him, the young lad could still tell she was unconscious. But the thing that rubbed him the wrong way was the fatherly smile his wrinkled, weathered face was portraying, but his obsidian eyes glittered with the cold calculation of a predator sizing up prey. Fear gripped his heart as though death itself was calling him. Every instinct screamed danger; this fragile-looking man was dangerous. The young lad squeezed his eyes shut, drawing a ragged breath that burned in his lungs. His parents' final words echoed in his memory: "Live, survive, protect." These three commands now weighed on his trembling shoulders like mountains. Droplets of rain poured down on his touched land. The numerous flames surrounding the valley started to be snuffed out. As the scene before the old man changed, he felt an immense energy wave heading towards him; he immediately jumped out of the range of the attack, but the others were not so lucky. The young lad stood there still with his arm stretched out while the other supported his little sister. Filled with rage and pain, the root of his black raven hair slowly turned white, and his persona exhibited a slightly different sight; the fear the old man could see in the young lad could no longer be seen. The worst thing about the sudden change was the eerie energy that the young lad was slowly leaking from his body. As the eerie atmosphere enveloped the six figures, a chilling wind whispered through the air, sending shivers down their spines. Their bones felt stiff, knees heavy as though an immense weight was pressing down upon them, hearts raced with a primal horror that clawed at their hearts. It was as if they stood in the presence of one of the legendary three swords, each imbued with a power that could alter fate itself. "Damn it!!! Damn it!!! I knew all the members of the Kurogane clan deserved to die." The fragile-looking man braced himself for battle. A fierce determination ignited in his eyes, which began to glow a fiery red. A massive amount of flames erupted from the old man. Condensing these flames into a colossal spear dwarfing that of an average human arm, with deadly precision and a speed that blurred the lines between reality and the supernatural, the spear hurtled towards the young lad, aimed for his head. But just before making impact, an unsettling stillness fell upon the battlefield; every human, bird, insect, and flicker of flame within the range of the eerie energy wave froze, suspended by time. Kagetora stood transfixed, awestruck by the spectacle before him. Yet beneath the surface of his brave look, a gnawing fear took root. He felt a large amount of the internal energy depleting, as if the universe itself conspired against him, forbidding him from using such surreal power. 'I guess I better end this fast,' he resolved himself. Gently settling his younger sister onto the ground, Kagetora slowly walked due to the strain from the weight of such divine powers. Reaching out into the boot of one of the six, he pulled out an ominous dagger that glinted in the dim moonlight. With one swift motion, he sliced the throat of an unsettling man. He felt a rush of energy coursing through him, invigorating his weary limbs. This dark ritual continued until he stood face to face with the fragile-looking old man whose eyes shone with fear and defiance. Forcing the last remnants of this energy he had left, the old man spoke, "Aren't you afraid of killing a disciple of the Third sword?" Kagetora met the fragile-looking man's gaze with a chilling smile creeping onto his lips. "I lost that emotion a while ago." With a smile, he slit the old man's throat. The crimson liquid spilled forth like a promise of death. The hellish battlefield, once a cacophony of life and death, fell silent. Kagetora slowly walked up to his little sister, whose innocent face was now even paler than when the battle between he and the six started, if what happened could even be called a battle. His body trembled uncontrollably as he fell on his knees; the constant accumulation of energy overwhelmed his fragile-looking body. He placed his trembling hands on his little sister's body, and a large amount of energy flowed into her body. Steam kept rising from his body like a ghostly mist; he felt something being pulled from his soul and entering his little sister. As this unknown energy left his body, he felt fear, he felt shame, and tears started flowing down his cheeks. As these emotions bombarded him, Kagetora shut his eyes; he felt consciousness rapidly begin to fade, the root of his raven black hair, once white like snow, began to revert to its original color. In a state where everything seemed unreal to him, he heard the desperate cries of his younger sister. "SAVE ME, BIG BROTHER! PLEASE SAVE ME!" The words echoed as a haunting reminder of his duty. Forcing himself back to reality, Kagetora shot up from his desk, shouting with a voice that reverberated through the entire classroom, "NO!!" All eyes turned to him. "Yes, Cadet Kage, is there a reason for distracting my class?" The blonde-haired teacher, in his mid-thirties, regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and concern, unaware of the storm brewing within the young lad.
