"My name is Yuna Kobayashi, and for as long as I can remember, I wanted to become a legendary warrior and a strong presence in the world—not someone like a feel-good savior, but rather one of those free spirits I had seen in manga and novels. As I grew older, I realized how hard such a dream would be to accomplish in today's world, so I gradually started to forget about it.
Now, as a 16-year-old high school student, between a cramped apartment I could barely afford and a high school where I was a ghost, my life wasn't just a dead end—it was a joke.
That joke ended in a dark alleyway.
A man in a ski mask was shaking. He was pathetic, a nervous wreck holding a cheap handgun, yet he was the one in control. I reached for my wallet, desperate to just get home. I promise I'll never surrender to someone like that, someone like the me I was in my last life."
As I finished that thought, I suddenly felt warm air on my body. As I opened my eyes, I saw that the sun was shining on me, and I was sitting under a mighty big oak tree that had an active fire on it for some reason. As my mind was clearing up, I realized that my previously black hair had turned dark blue, and my nails were pitch black.
I stood up, the silk of the black and pink kimono rustling against my legs. I was definitely taller—my perspective of the world had shifted. I looked at the burning oak tree.
I reached out a hand, my obsidian nails glinting in the sunlight. In my old life, I would have flinched. Now? I felt a strange pulse in my chest, a vibration that matched the flickering of the fire.
"Is this... me?" I muttered. My voice was smoother, like silk over gravel.
I didn't feel like a high schooler anymore. I felt like a weapon that had finally been unsheathed.
I turned away from the tree and looked out at the field. If this world had legends, I was going to find them. And then, I was going to surpass them. I wasn't going to be the girl who died in a dark alley because of a coward with a shaking hand.
I took my first step forward, and as my foot hit the grass, a low hum echoed through the air—a Resonance that made me truly realize that I was, in fact, not dead.
The grass grew thicker the farther I walked, brushing against my legs with every step. The air felt heavier here—too quiet, like the world was holding its breath. Then I heard it. Heavy footsteps. Fast. Not human. I froze instantly and dropped low, pressing myself into the tall grass as my heart started pounding—not from fear alone, but from instinct. Something was wrong. Something big.
A blur shot between the trees ahead. At first, I thought it was a bear—no, it was a bear. Huge, easily over two meters, its muscles tensing as it sprinted through the clearing, its breath coming out in ragged bursts that tore through the silence. It was running. From something.
A second set of footsteps followed, louder, faster, wrong.
Then I saw it, and my breath caught in my throat.
Humanoid. Barely. It stood nearly four meters tall, its limbs too long and too thin, like they'd been stretched beyond what they were meant to be. Its skin clung tightly to its frame, wrapping over bone in a way that made it look half-starved and unnatural. Its arms dragged slightly as it ran, ending in long, curved claws that tore through the ground with each step. Its mouth was too wide, filled with jagged teeth that didn't fit, and the sounds it made weren't a roar or a scream, but something in between—wet, broken, almost like laughter forced through a throat that didn't work right.
I didn't move. I couldn't.
The distance between them closed in seconds. The bear tried to turn, but it was too slow. The creature's arm shot forward, and with a single swipe—
I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from making a sound.
Blood sprayed across the grass as the bear collapsed instantly, its body twitching once before going still. There was no struggle, no second chance, just… gone. The creature didn't hesitate. It dropped to the corpse immediately, tearing into it with those claws, ripping flesh apart like it was nothing.
My stomach twisted, and a cold realization settled in.
This wasn't a dream. This wasn't some exaggerated story or fantasy trope. This was real.
"…So it really is another world," I mouthed silently, my voice too quiet to exist.
My eyes stayed locked on the creature as it fed, my mind racing. Four meters tall, fast enough to catch a bear, strong enough to kill it in one hit—and me?
I clenched my hand slightly. Nothing. No power, no strength, no advantage.
If it noticed me, I'd die. Simple as that.
Slowly, carefully, I lowered myself further into the grass, forcing every movement to be controlled, quiet, invisible. Panic wouldn't help me here. Not in a place like this. I needed to think.
Fight? Not even worth considering. Run? It would hear me and catch me. Hide. Wait. Survive.
My breathing slowed as I forced myself to stay still, my eyes never leaving the creature. It was distracted—for now—completely focused on tearing apart its kill.
Good.
I steadied myself, locking onto the only option that made sense. I would wait until it was gone, and then I would move. If there were monsters like that, then there had to be something else too—villages, cities, people. Something that wasn't trying to rip me apart.
Until then, I couldn't afford a single mistake.
I pressed myself deeper into the grass, forcing my body to become part of the ground itself as the creature fed just meters away, reminding myself over and over again—don't get seen, don't make a sound, don't die.
I stayed still even after the sounds started to fade, even after the tearing and wet chewing stopped, forcing my body not to move an inch as minutes passed in complete silence. Only when the forest returned to that unnatural stillness did I finally lift my head slightly, scanning the clearing. The creature was gone. What remained wasn't much—torn flesh, dark blood soaking into the ground, and a heavy silence that made it feel like nothing had happened at all. I swallowed and slowly pushed myself up, my legs stiff from staying in place for so long, my eyes darting around one last time before I turned away. Open ground was death, that much was obvious now, so I headed straight for the forest ahead, keeping low as I moved deeper into the trees where the light struggled to reach and the air grew cooler, quieter, and harder to read.
Time passed without me realizing how much, my steps gradually slowing as exhaustion crept into my body, but it was the hunger that hit hardest. At first it was dull, easy to ignore, but it didn't stay that way. It grew sharper, twisting inside me until it demanded attention, forcing me to stop and press a hand lightly against my stomach. I hadn't eaten. Not since— I cut the thought off before it could finish and forced myself to focus. I needed food, and I needed it soon. My eyes searched the ground until they landed on a rock, rough and uneven, but usable. It wasn't much, but it was something.
It took longer than I expected to find anything. By the time I spotted the rabbit, my legs already felt heavy, my body slower than it should have been. It was small and quick, constantly twitching, its ears flicking at the slightest sound as I crouched low, gripping the rock tightly. I waited, forcing myself to stay still despite the growing tension in my arms, until the moment felt right. Then I threw. The rock left my hand clumsily, not clean, not perfect—but it hit. A dull impact, and the rabbit dropped. For a second I just stared, my breathing uneven, before I walked over and looked down at it. Still. My stomach twisted again, but this time I didn't hesitate.
Starting a fire was worse than the hunt. It took time, too much time, my hands growing dirty as I tried and failed more than once, frustration building before I finally managed to get a spark. Then a flame. Small and weak, but enough. I stayed there for a moment, watching it carefully before using it, making sure it wouldn't die out before I even started. The smell of cooked meat hit me hard, and whatever hesitation I might have had disappeared. By the time I finished eating, there was nothing left. No restraint, no second thought—just survival. I leaned back slightly, staring at the fire as my body finally started to settle, the sharp edge of hunger fading into a deep, heavy exhaustion that made staying there tempting. But I didn't. Staying still felt wrong, so I forced myself up and kept moving.
It wasn't long before I felt it—something ahead, not overwhelming like the creature before, but enough to make me slow down. Careful, controlled, I moved forward until I saw him standing between the trees. A man with short black hair, only a few inches long, his deep marine blue eyes standing out immediately. There were markings on his skin too, faint but visible, patterns that reminded me of something old, something deliberate. He was already looking at me.
"…Hey," I started cautiously, but he spoke before I could finish.
"A fellow demon."
I blinked, thrown off completely. "…What?"
"You're a demon. Same as me."
For a moment, I just stared at him, trying to process what he had said, my mind instinctively going to deny it before stopping halfway. I didn't actually know what I was. My hand twitched slightly as I looked at him again. "…Explain."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me more closely. "…You don't know?" There was a pause before his expression shifted just slightly. "How?"
I took a second to think before answering, keeping my tone neutral. "I lost my memory. I woke up under a tree and don't remember anything before that." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. He watched me for a moment longer before letting out a quiet breath.
"…That's strange. I'm Roymel."
"…Yuna."
"If you're really a demon, you should at least recognize it. The feeling. The Zen."
"…Zen?"
He frowned slightly. "You really don't know anything." I didn't respond to that and instead asked the question that mattered more.
"The thing I saw earlier—tall, thin, killed a bear in one hit. What was it?"
His expression shifted. "…A mountain dweller." He glanced off slightly as if thinking. "It shouldn't be here."
"…Meaning?"
"It means you were lucky it didn't notice you."
I already knew that.
I stayed with him after that, not out of trust but because being alone felt worse. Over the next few days, he explained what he could. About Zen, about spells, about how humans rarely had it—one in a thousand, and even then it was weak. Demons were different. "All demons are spellbound," he told me one night, the firelight reflecting faintly in his eyes. "We're born with Zen. Stronger than humans." When I asked about spells, he showed me. For a brief moment, heat warped the air around his hand. "Magma," he said simply. "I can become it. Control it. But it costs Zen." The heat disappeared just as quickly.
"…And if you run out?"
"You die."
Simple.
"…How many demons are there?"
"Not many. Maybe around a thousand."
Compared to humans, that was nothing.
That night, as I lay there staring up at the darkness above, everything finally settled into place. Another world. Monsters. Zen. Spells. Demons. And me. I exhaled slowly, my gaze unfocused as the realization sank deeper. "…So that's what I am." Not human anymore. A faint feeling stirred in my chest—not power, not yet, but something waiting. I closed my eyes.
If this was what I had become, then I would use it.
And this time, I wouldn't stay weak.
The next few days didn't feel real at first, not because of the world or what I had become, but because I wasn't alone. Roymel wasn't talkative and didn't try to act friendly, but he didn't treat me like a threat either, just neutral, and in a place like this that was enough. We moved through the forest together at a steady pace, stopping only when necessary, and he showed me what to avoid, what sounds mattered, when to move and when to stay still. At first I kept my distance, watching him as carefully as everything else, waiting for something that would make him dangerous, but it never came. Instead, he corrected me. Small things at first—too loud, wrong direction, you're exposing yourself—short and direct, no emotion behind it, just facts, and slowly I started listening.
It was on the third night that he explained it properly. We sat near a small fire, the flames kept low so they wouldn't draw attention, and I found myself staring into them again, that same faint pulse in my chest still there, still unclear. He noticed. He always seemed to notice.
"You've been feeling it, haven't you?" he said.
I didn't look at him. "…Feeling what?"
"Zen."
I stayed quiet for a moment before answering. "…Something. In my chest."
He nodded slightly. "That's it. Zen isn't just energy, it's yours. Your body produces it, but it's tied to you—your instincts, your nature, the way you think."
"So it's like stamina?"
"No." He shook his head. "Stamina fades because your body gets tired. Zen fades because you use it, and when it's gone, you die."
I didn't need him to repeat that part.
"And spells?" I asked.
He picked up a small rock and turned it in his hand for a second before speaking. "Spells are how your Zen takes shape. You don't learn them like techniques, you discover them. Everyone has a natural alignment, something they're closer to than anything else, and your spells come from that. For me, it's magma. I didn't learn it from anyone, I felt it, understood it, and then I used it."
"So everyone's different."
"Completely. One person might control sound, another might alter their own body, another might affect the environment. The spells reflect who you are. You don't choose them, they reveal you."
I frowned slightly. "And demons?"
"All demons are spellbound," he said without hesitation. "Humans are rare cases, maybe one in a thousand, and most of them never develop anything useful. Demons are different. We're born with Zen, stronger by default."
"So I should have something already."
"Yes."
I looked down at my hand, flexing my fingers slightly. The feeling was there, faint but real.
"Then why don't I?"
He paused for a moment before answering. "Because you don't understand yourself yet. Zen responds to clarity. If you don't know what you are, what you want, how you think, your spells won't take shape."
That made more sense than I expected.
"So I just figure it out?"
"Or survive long enough for it to happen."
Simple.
After that, things shifted. Not all at once, but enough to notice. I stopped watching him like he might turn on me at any second. When he told me to stop, I stopped. When he moved, I followed. When he explained something, I listened. Not because I trusted him completely, but because he hadn't given me a reason not to, and in this world that meant more than anything else.