My name is Minjae Omoyogi. I've said it out loud so many times that the words feel hollow, like a name I stole from some better version of myself. I was born in South Korea—or at least, that's what the papers said. Truth is, I've spent most of my life wondering if I even belong in this world.
Growing up, I was the quiet type, the one people called "introverted" or "weird" because I preferred watching others from the shadows rather than joining their games. I never had friends who mattered, never had someone who cared if I ate or slept. My youth was filled with small dreams: one day, maybe, I could be someone worth noticing, someone who could account for something in this chaotic world.
But reality… reality is cruel.
I am a beggar now. Not the kind that lives in some warm alley or sleeps under a roof. No, I sleep wherever the night won't steal my life first. I wander the streets, looking for anything to eat, anything to survive, anything to make the next breath possible. My body is thin, my clothes are torn, and my hands are more scar than skin.
"Oi, you! Watch your pockets, loser!" a passerby muttered, pulling a bag from my side. I didn't even have the strength to yell.
I had been abandoned. Kicked out of a family I never truly belonged to, betrayed by people I thought might care. They called themselves my relatives, but family is more than blood—it's trust. And I had none left.
I shuffled down an alley that smelled of rot and smoke. I could hear the faint hum of neon signs from a distance—reminders that the city went on, indifferent to people like me. I gripped my meager belongings closer to my chest and tried to ignore the stares of strangers.
Then, from the shadows, they came. Three men, scruffy, eyes sharp, teeth yellow. "Hey, got some cash?" one asked, smirking.
I shook my head. "I… I don't have anything."
"Don't lie to us," another said, pushing me against the wall. Pain lanced my side, a reminder that I was nothing. That I had nothing. That I could do nothing.
And yet…
Something inside me shifted. It started as a warmth in my chest, like embers of a fire long buried. Then a strange tingling surged through my limbs. I felt… aware. Every movement the thugs made, I could anticipate. Every sound, every step, every breath—they were like open books to me.
"What… what the hell?" I whispered.
The leader lunged at me, and instinctively, my hand shot out. Not with strength I'd ever known, but with a force that shocked even me. He slammed into the ground with a grunt, and the other two froze. Their eyes widened as though they saw something they shouldn't have.
I didn't understand it yet. Couldn't understand it. But I felt it—the power. Raw, strange, ancient. Something deep in my blood had awakened.
"Who… are you?" one of them stammered, retreating.
I shook my head, confused. "I… I don't know."
No. That wasn't entirely true. I did know. I knew my life would never be the same. I knew that in me now lived something older, greater, a force that had waited through generations for the right moment. I didn't understand the mechanics yet, didn't know why or how, but I sensed it—the legacy of the Omoyogi Clan, a power that could shape worlds, a power I was the first to awaken.
I sank to my knees in the alley, breathing heavily. The thugs ran off, but I didn't chase them. I couldn't. My mind was racing too fast, like it had been replaced with something else. Images flashed—faces, places, battles I had never seen, knowledge that didn't belong to me. I caught glimpses of martial arts techniques I had never practiced, mystical runes, schematics for strange machines, even memories of people who had lived centuries ago.
A family… I had always wanted a family I could trust, a life that meant something. But I realized now that I would have to build it myself. That no one could give it to me. And if this power was the key… then the world itself would become my canvas.
For now, though… the city still hummed around me. The streets didn't care that I was no longer a nobody. The neon lights reflected off puddles in the alley, flickering across my face. I was still hungry. Still alone. Still weak by human standards.
But I was no longer just human.
And this… this was only the beginning.