The scorching sun of Cambodia beat down on the ancient, moss-covered stones of a hidden temple deep within the jungle. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of old blood.
In the center of the stone courtyard stood a youth who looked no older than eighteen. His name was Y'ongJizo.
Standing at only 1.50 meters, he appeared small, almost fragile, compared to the fifty elite mercenaries surrounding him. He wore a simple monochrome outfit: a black long-sleeved shirt under a white tee, and white cargo shorts. His spiky black hair swayed slightly in the breeze, and his pale blue eyes remained calm—unnervingly calm.
"Hand over the Kozochina, boy, and we might let you keep your head!" the mercenary leader roared, brandishing a massive jagged axe.
Y'ongJizo didn't respond. He didn't even look at the man. To him, they weren't enemies; they were just obstacles to be cleared.
[C.B.A - Combat Battle Analysis: Initiated]
Target Count: 50. Analysis: 0.001 seconds. Conclusion: Lethal efficiency required.
Suddenly, the air around Y'ongJizo began to vibrate.
[Aura G.O: The Binary Soul - Activated]
A haunting mist of Ice Blue flames erupted from his core, while a jagged outline of Crimson Red smoke spiraled around his small frame. The two colors clashed and swirled, creating a dark purple "Death Galaxy" that suppressed the very oxygen in the area.
[Silent Zone: Engaged]
In an instant, all sound vanished. The jungle birds stopped chirping. The mercenaries tried to shout, but their voices were swallowed by an absolute, terrifying silence.
[Movement 67: Void Walking (V.W)]
Y'ongJizo's body glitched for a microsecond. To the mercenaries, he simply disappeared from reality.
He moved through the "Void," a dimension where time stood still. He walked past the frozen mercenaries, his hand moving toward the 80cm red-black hilt of his blade, Kozochina.
Click.
The sound of the blade snapping back into its scabbard was the only thing heard as the Silent Zone deactivated.
Y'ongJizo was now standing ten meters behind the group, his back turned to them. He hadn't seemed to move at all, yet the air behind him was filled with the smell of ozone and burnt electricity.
One by one, all fifty mercenaries collapsed. Their weapons were shattered into dust, and their pressure points had been struck with such precision that they would never walk again. Not a single drop of blood wasted. Pure efficiency.
A spatial ripple, a jagged blue rift, tore open in the air in front of Y'ongJizo. Through the crack, the neon lights and towering skyscrapers of Tokyo flickered like a distant dream.
Y'ongJizo adjusted his sleeve, his face as stoic as a statue.
"Next stop," Y'ongJizo whispered, his first words in years.
He stepped into the rift, leaving the ruins of the temple behind. The 30,000-chapter legend had begun.