YEARS BACK]
The afternoon sun felt heavy, like a warm blanket Sora didn't want.
Seven-year-old Sora sat on the edge of the porch, his small hands gripped so tight his knuckles were white. He wasn't just crying; he was shaking with a quiet, burning shame.
"They all have it, Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Gil made a spark. Even Rin felt the hum. But me? I'm just... me. The other kids say God skipped my house. They say I'm a 'Blank.' That I'll never be a Saint."
His father didn't offer a hug. He didn't offer pity. Instead, he sat down heavily beside him, the wood of the porch groaning under his weight. He looked up at the sky, eyes tracking a lone bird circling high above.
"Sora," his father said, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Do you know what the most dangerous thing in this world is?"
Sora wiped his nose with his sleeve. "A demon?"
"No. It's a man with a dream and the patience to wait for it." His father turned, his gaze locking onto Sora's tear-streaked face. "The others are like firecrackers. They pop early, they're loud, and then they're gone. But you? You're the foundation. You aren't a 'Blank,' Sora. You're a masterpiece that hasn't been unveiled yet. One day, you won't just be a Saint... you'll be the strongest one this world has ever seen. So don't cry because they're laughing. Smile, because they have no idea what's coming."
[PRESENT DAY]
Sora's eyes snapped open.
The darkness of the skyscraper lobby was suffocating, and the taste of copper filled his mouth. Every bone in his body felt like it had been pulverized by a hydraulic press. His stamina was Zero. His Mantra was a flickering candle in a hurricane.
But he felt his father's hand on his head.
Sora's fingers twitched against the shattered tile. He forced his arms to lock. He pushed.
Creeeeeak.
The sound of his own joints protesting was louder than the settling rubble. Slowly, agonizingly, Sora stood. He swayed like a leaf in a storm, but he stood.
"Hey... Round Fish," Sora croaked, a bloody grin spreading across his face.
Fish stopped. He was ten meters away, casually tossing Kael's flag into the air and catching it. He turned his head, his bald scalp reflecting the dim moonlight, and his eyes widened in genuine, playful surprise.
"Whoa, kid!" Fish laughed, his tone bright and impressed. "You're still upright? I thought for sure you were dreaming about a nice warm bed by now. You're like one of those weighted punching bags—I knock you down, and you just boing right back up!"
Sora took a step, then another. His legs were shaking, but his eyes—those crimson eyes with the golden plus-signs—were burning with a terrifying clarity.
"I'm not done yet," Sora said, his voice growing stronger. "You told me to keep dreaming. So I am. I'm dreaming about being the strongest Saint in history. And part of that dream... is finishing this round."
Fish chuckled, shaking his head. He tucked the flag into his pocket and waved a dismissive hand, his posture relaxed and friendly.
"Nah, nah, Sora. Look at you! You're literally vibrating. If I tap you right now, you'll probably shatter into a thousand pieces, and I'd feel bad. I like you! You've got 'Main Character' energy, kid. Go take a nap. We'll have a real rematch when you can actually see straight. I'm out."
Fish started to turn, whistling a casual tune, his team beginning to retreat into the shadows behind him.
The whistle died in Fish's throat.
The air didn't just get cold; it became heavy, like liquid lead. The shadows at the edges of the room didn't stay on the floor—they began to rise, curling upward like smoke made of obsidian.
Then, a voice.
It was melodic, haunting, and carried a rhythmic, sing-song quality that made the hair on Sora's neck stand up.
"Cross my heart and hope to die..."
The shadows pulsed.
"...Welcome to my dark side."
SHLICK.
The sound of tearing silk echoed through the lobby.
Fish—the man who caught lightning—stiffened. A clean, horizontal line of red suddenly appeared across his chest. Behind him, his teammates didn't even have time to scream. They fell like marionettes with their strings cut, blood pooling on the tile as they clutched at wounds they never saw coming.
Fish fell to one knee, coughing, his playful grin replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated shock.
"What... the hell...?" Fish gasped, his stamina-reinforced body failing him for the first time.
Sora froze. He couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. The pressure was so vast it felt like a mountain had been dropped onto the building.
Then, he felt it.
The air behind his ear rippled.
A presence, cold as the void between stars, materialized in the space where his shadow should have been. A figure shrouded in a cloak of shifting, living darkness stood there, a blade of black glass raised high.
The blade descended toward Sora's neck—faster than Pegasus, heavier than Hercules, moving with a silent, absolute finality.