Deep underground, where the smell of damp mixed with ash, Ken sat inside a narrow city drainage tunnel. The darkness was heavy, but the orange light from a fire he had lit on the ground broke the blackness, revealing corroded metal walls and steam rising from cracked pipes.
Beside him, the child lay on a torn piece of cloth, breathing slowly, his chest is rising and falling with clear exhaustion. His wounds were wrapped in white fabric torn from Ken's own shirt. Now Ken wore only an open black jacket, exposing his chest and tense muscles, faintly shining with sweat under the firelight.
He sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the small flame as if thinking of countless things. Then he reached into his side pocket and pulled out a small oval device, about the size of his palm. It was dark gray, with faint green lines of light along its edges.
He pressed the icon at its center. A soft pulse-like sound came out, and suddenly a large holographic screen appeared against the wall, showing a shaky news broadcast.
"Earthquakes continue across the continent of Valoria. The transparent sky wall that once separated the continent from the outside world is no longer stable, and the purple rift is still visible at this moment… with hundreds of thousands of victims…"
The anchor's voice was tense and broken, sometimes fading due to weak signal. Ken showed no reaction. He simply watched the screen with focus, his mind analyzing every word.
'This place is safer… less shaking… If the tremors stopped here, that means the pressure center shifted north.'
He lifted his head slightly toward the ceiling where water dripped slowly, then looked at the sleeping child beside him. He exhaled quietly and murmured in a low voice, barely audible:
"At least… we're alive."
The images on the wall changed, and the hologram began showing rapid feeds from different channels. Voices overlapped, logos flashing in restless colors.
"Valorian authorities have named the disaster the Great Rift…"
"Experts confirm the crack in the sky was not a natural phenomenon, but an unknown form of energy…"
"Orakano Island has suffered 80% damage. Hundreds are missing, and thousands of bodies have been swept away by the sea…"
"The Lower States have declared a state of emergency, as rescue teams continue working amid ongoing aftershocks…"
Footage followed quickly. Horrifying scenes of destruction, flooded cities, smoke rising from mountains. Another voice spoke from a different channel, calmer but sharp in tone:
"As for the Empire of Zitara, the damage was relatively limited due to its mountainous location. However, some witnesses reported a strange flash that lit up the capital for a few seconds on the second day of the disaster. It is believed to be linked to the activation of one of the rare Vakin abilities."
At that moment, the image began to distort. Colors faded until the screen turned into pure white light.
Then the scene changed.
The white light became a pale sunlight, reflecting ash over a ruined city. Zitara was completely different from before. Beautiful Japanese-style houses were now burned ruins. Bridges leaned at odd angles, and water dripped from cracks left by the earthquakes.
Amid the devastation, Akio walked slowly along a broken dirt road. His eyes were pale with exhaustion, his clothes torn and covered in dust. Two days had passed since the disaster, and he had only slept in short, broken moments.
He held a small bag on his back. His eyes searched through the rubble, over the tired faces of people and the collapsed homes. No one from his family remained except Murasaki, who walked silently behind him, her pink hair stained with dust. Both of them knew the truth, but neither could say it out loud.
Akio suddenly stopped, stared at the distance, and said in a low voice:
"Dad… are you still alive?"
He lifted his head toward the sky, where the purple rift had not yet faded. At that moment, everything around him froze. People moved, doctors shouted, soldiers carried the wounded… but time stopped for Akio.
Through the dust and smoke, he saw a metal hospital bed moving slowly through the crowd. A white sheet covered the body on it, blood still seeping through the edges of the cloth. When part of the sheet slipped, he saw a strand of pink hair hanging out.
His eyes widened. His breathing quickened. Doubt turned into a deadly certainty. He screamed without thinking and ran with all the strength he had left, while Murasaki screamed his name and chased after him.
"Mooooom!!!"
His voice tore through the air, echoing off burned walls as if the whole world were screaming with him. He grabbed the bed before they pushed it into the incineration room, ripped the sheet away, and saw her. The face that used to smile at him every morning was now cold, gray, her eyes peacefully closed in a cruel stillness.
He collapsed to the ground, his hand trembling as it held her cold one. Tears poured without stopping, mixing with ash on his face.
"Mom… Mom, wake up… please."
Murasaki knelt beside him, trying to speak, but her voice came out broken and hoarse from crying. Akio cried out loud, without trying to be strong, as if everything inside him poured out at once.
In his mind, images of her followed one after another. Her laughter. Her voice while calling his name. Her hand brushing his hair when he made mistakes. She loved him with rare sincerity, even though he was not her real son. She called him "my son" in a way that made everyone believe it was true. And now… that voice would never be heard again.
He froze in place, his eyes fixed on her still face, while the flames inside the incinerator began to burn behind the glass. In that moment, Akio felt something inside him fade away… as if the light that had illuminated his heart since childhood went out quietly, leaving only emptiness behind.
Three months passed since that night that changed everything. The sky slowly regained its color, but people's hearts had not regained peace. The earthquakes stopped, the rubble was cleared, and in a side alley of the capital, Akio and Murasaki rebuilt their old home with the help of their father, Vanco, whom they finally found after weeks of searching.
In the yard, Akio stood in the center, holding two wooden swords. Sweat ran down his forehead, but his eyes shone with clear determination.
He raised the first sword straight forward, then spun lightly and struck with the second in the opposite direction. His movements were not perfect. There was the tremor of a teenager who had not fully grown yet, but they were filled with resolve. Strike after strike followed.
Murasaki watched him from a distance, sitting on the wooden steps. Akio cut the air with a strong blow, then stopped to catch his breath. He murmured softly while staring at the ground:
"I won't cry anymore… Mom wouldn't want that."
He lifted his head to the sky, the setting sun reflected in his eyes.
"I promised her… I promised I'd become stronger… I'll achieve my goal… and I will become the next shogun of this continent."
He gripped the wooden swords again and struck the air with force, sending dust flying around him.
As for Orakano Island, the scene looked like a vast graveyard. Crumbling houses had become piles of wood and iron. Old streets once full of life turned into paths of mud and ash. In the middle of this ruin, only one house remained standing, its walls firm and its roof intact, built solidly amid the chaos of slums.
From its door, Ken stepped out slowly, his face empty of expression. He wore a simple white cap, a short-sleeved white shirt, and dark trousers. A half-burnt cigarette rested between his lips. His sword hung behind his back in a leather belt.
He paused at the entrance, then let out a long breath of smoke. He began walking through the alleys, the smoke fading behind him.
After several minutes, he reached the remains of a small market. Stalls were destroyed, signs fallen, but one wall still stood, covered with dozens of torn posters and faded papers.
He stopped in front of it, pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and rested his hand against the wall. Some papers spoke of the missing. Others talked about aid and relief. But one caught his attention. A relatively clean sheet, with clear writing at the top:
[Annual Selection of Young Fighters — 87th Cycle]
Below the title, the details were written in smaller text:
[The selection will take place in two weeks, in the heart of Orakano Island. Participation is open to anyone over the age of thirteen. The winners will become part of the elite warriors, under the supervision of the Arkan Revolutionary Organization.]
Ken read in silence. Then he raised an eyebrow slightly, as if something in the notice caught his interest. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and slowly exhaled smoke while staring at the paper for a long moment. Something in the words made him stop breathing for a second. The word "fighters" in particular.
The wind blew, shaking the other posters around him, but the paper in front of him stayed still… until he suddenly grabbed it with all his strength. He slowly crushed it in his hand, his calm gaze turning into a burning sharpness. A faint fiery glow flickered at his fingertips.
"Selection, huh… same play every year."
He threw the crumpled paper to the ground and crushed it under his foot. But the anger inside him did not fade. It only burned hotter.
Memories surged at once. A city in flames. Children's screams. A red sky. And one voice rose above everything… a name that never stopped chasing him.
He lifted his head toward the horizon, his eyes glowing with real fire this time, and whispered in a low voice, sharp as a blade:
"Cirrus…"
His jaw tightened. He lowered his head slightly, then walked away from the wall. For the first time in years, Ken was not running from his past… but walking toward his revenge.