Chapter One
Boom!
An explosion ripped across the sky, smoke curling downward like a dark curtain of doom. Entire cities crumbled in the chaos. People ran in every direction, screaming, their faces twisted in raw panic. The world as they knew it was ending.
"Run! Run!" a soldier barked, waving an AK-47 in one hand, guiding civilians toward an escape ship docked nearby. The people surged forward, desperate to survive.
Among the fleeing crowd, two boys—one about twelve, the other eight—sprinted toward the soldier. But suddenly, the younger boy tripped, his leg wedged into a crack that split the broken ground.
"Come on!" the older boy shouted, tugging with all his might. But the rubble wouldn't budge.
The soldier's eyes widened as he spotted a creature sprinting toward them. It was inhuman—its pitch-black body glistened like obsidian, and three jagged spikes of red, blue, and green jutted from its back.
"No… not one of those," the soldier whispered. He knew this creature well—it was the reasons the war began. They weren't just monsters. They were annihilators, murdering humans with brutal efficiency.
He charged forward, opening fire. The bullets struck—but bounced off harmlessly.
It didn't stop. It kept coming.
The soldier's hands trembled as he fired again, sweat pouring down his face. Was it him firing the gun, or the gun firing him? He couldn't tell anymore.
Snap.
The creature caught the rifle and crushed it like paper. Then it raised a clawed hand to end the soldier's life.
He shut his eyes.
Splurt.
Warm liquid splashed against his face. He blinked. The creature stood before him—headless.
"Area cleared. Evacuate," said a calm voice.
The soldier looked up to see a man with black hair and a long blue robe. Twin blades gleamed in his hands, and a dozen more hovered on the box at his back like floating sentinels.
The moment the soldier laid eyes on the figure, his breath caught in his throat, and his vision blurred with tears. So… they really exist… he thought, his heart pounding louder than the chaos around him.
He had grown up on whispered tales—legends of heroes who could tear through monsters like shadows in sunlight, who could command storms with a gesture, and split into a dozen mirror selves in the blink of an eye. But he never believed them. How could he? No man could bend nature to their will. No human could wield such power.
But now… standing there amidst the carnage, was one of them.
"A Hero…" he whispered.
"Get them to safety," the swordsman said.
"Yes, sir—Lord Hero!" the soldier shouted, scooping up the kids and sprinting to the ship.
As the vessel lifted into the sky, the Hero watched with a hint of sadness.
"At least some made it," he muttered.
Then, his expression darkened as he turned toward the horizon—the direction from which the first nightmare had come. The ground trembled. A swarm of monsters, hundreds strong, thundered toward him like a tidal wave of death.
"Wasn't there supposed to be an end to all this...?" he whispered.
He exhaled slowly, then raised two fingers toward the heavens. In response, the sealed box on his back clicked open with a hiss of power. Dozens—no, hundreds—of swords burst forth, spiraling into the sky like a storm of blades.
"Hundred Sword Formation: Centro Strike."
The air shimmered with energy. Each sword pulsed with blinding light, humming with power. Then, as if obeying a divine command, they launched forward in unison—rushing through the air, piercing the sky, and descending like judgment upon the horde below.
---
Elsewhere…
Cracks split the earth, buildings reduced to rubble. It was pure apocalypse. Yet amidst the destruction, one structure still stood—an enormous warehouse surrounded by over 400 meters of slain monsters.
Inside, two figures stepped in, carrying a baby swaddled in cloth. The man, clad in silver armor stained with black blood, had short white hair. The woman, elegant yet battle-worn, had long black hair.
"Troy," said an older man as he approached, voice calm but weary. "How was it?"
Troy's smile faltered.
"The war still rages," he replied. "He's not down yet… and things are getting worse."
The old man sighed, nodding grimly. "So it's as we feared."
"But this region is secure," Troy added. "For now."
The woman gently laid the baby down, then walked over. Her name was Shayla, and her eyes were full of quiet pain.
"Shayla, are you ready?" Troy man asked.
She hesitated. "Troy… can't I just see them one last—"
"No," he said gently but firmly. "The more you see them, the harder it gets. Let's finish this. Then we return."
She nodded, barely holding back her tears.
As they turned toward the exit, a small figure blocked the doorway—a seven-year-old boy with black and white hair. His eyes were burning with anger.
"You're leaving again… aren't you?" he asked.
Shayla looked away, her heart breaking.
Troy knelt and ruffled the boy's hair. "Han… you're a big boy, right?"
"Of course!" the child puffed his chest.
"Then act like it," Troy said with a smile. "The world needs saving. We're doing this for you, your siblings… and everyone else."
"But Laura, Xin, and Rin—they need you too!" Han protested.
"That's why we're counting on you," Shayla said softly, kneeling beside him. She pinched his cheek gently—a gesture he secretly loved—and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're entrusting them, and this city… to you."
Han's face turned serious, like a boy ready to carry the weight of the world.
"Okay, mom," he said, his voice strong, as if he'd already earned his reward before the task even began.
The woman gently removed the necklace from her neck—a black amulet in the shape of a silver 'T' entwined with spiral chains—and fastened it around Han's.
"This is our family heirloom," she said softly. "Keep it safe until I return."
With those parting words, she and the other bid farewell to the boy and the hundreds gathered in the warehouse. Then, without looking back, they vanished into the shadows of the night.
---
Years later…
"Yaaah!"
A fist shot through the air, aimed straight at an opponent's face. But with a quick twist, the target dodged.
The attacker didn't falter—he struck again. This time, the opponent flipped midair, his leg snapping out like a whip. The man blocked the kick with a faintly glowing hand, but just before contact, the leg shifted—first to the right, then snake-like to the left—bypassing his guard and slamming into his temple.
"Ouch!" the man yelped as his face smashed into the marble floor.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
A round of applause echoed through the room. The one they applauded finally turned around. He was strikingly handsome—white and black hair swept across his forehead, and sweat gleamed on his brow. He gave a small wave to the other trainees, all dressed in black like him.
"You really are a genius, young master," said the man he had just defeated, standing up with a wide grin.
"Despite not having awakened, you still beat me who has a mighty D rank skill!"
Han's eye twitched slightly. That was Ron—always boasting about his D-rank skill as if it made him invincible, even when just beaten by someone unawakened.
Before Ron could brag further, an elderly voice cut in.
"Ron, train the others. Han, come—let's have some tea."
Han gave a respectful nod and followed the old man.
---
"I must admit, your progress is astounding, Han," the elder said as they sat across from each other. "Mastering 9 out of the 15 Jungle Art… It's truly remarkable."
Han sipped his tea. "It's not such a tall task."
But it was. The Jungle Art was a martial art said to take a lifetime to master. Yet Han, had already conquered nine of its forms in just a few years.
The elder, though not awakened himself, had once faced off against B-rank heroes using nothing but the Jungle Art—and lived.
The room fell into silence as Han's gaze drifted to the necklace in his palm.
"You miss them, don't you?" the old man asked gently.
Han smiled faintly and nodded. "It's been 11 years... and they haven't returned. Could they really be—"
"Don't say it," the elder interrupted, voice firm. "They'll return. And when they do, I want you to have fulfilled their wish."
Han nodded. "Tomorrow is the day."
"Yes. Out of everyone in this little city of Serenya," the elder said, naming the peaceful place, "you're our only hope. If you awaken a powerful skill, we can finally rise."
"I won't fail you," Han promised. Finishing his tea, he rose and stepped outside.
---
As he walked through the quiet streets of Serenya, people smiled and waved.
"Young Master!" they called cheerfully.
Han nodded back, offering a small smile. Despite the city's lack of resources and the fact that most awakeners here only received E or D-rank skills, this place was his home. The few who awakened stronger powers were quickly whisked away by the larger hero guilds. Serenya had no protectors, no heroes.
"I'll change that," Han thought firmly. "I'll become the strength this city needs."
Approaching his modest mansion, he paused. Something felt… off. Quiet. Too quiet.
He pushed the door open—and ducked. A massive bowl dropped from the ceiling, barely missing him. He leaned sideways just in time to avoid a metal bat swinging for his head, then caught the culprit by the arm.
A girl, around 16, with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Laura," Han said, exasperated. "Haven't you outgrown these childish tricks?"
She pouted. "It's not a prank—it's training."
Han shook his head with a sigh. "Rin. Xin. Come out."
Two grinning faces popped up from behind a table—the girl with snow-white hair, the boy with black.
"Welcome back, big brother!" they chimed.
"I would say thank you, but you nearly boiled me again," Han muttered, pointing at the steaming bowl he'd dodged.
"Forget that!" Xin beamed. "How was training?"
Han looked at her, trying to stay stern, but their smiling faces melted his irritation.
"It went well. I've mastered the ninth art."
"Yay!" they cheered.
"Big brother, will you teach me?" Xin asked excitedly.
"Martial arts are exhausting," Han replied. "It took me years to get this far."
"Martial arts are boring," Rin declared. "The real power is in awakening a badass skill and becoming a hero!"
As usual, Rin and Xin began bickering.
Laura turned to Han, her voice soft. "You're going tomorrow, right?"
Han nodded. "My awakening day."
"I believe you'll awaken an S-rank skill and protect us all," she said proudly.
But the word protect made something shift in Han's expression. His eyes darkened.
He stood.
"Where are you going?" Laura asked gently.
He didn't answer.
"If I had to guess—back to the lone lab again," she said quietly.
Han nodded.
"It's been a while since I last visited her."
Laura's brow twitched. "You just visited her yesterday." She thought.
But he was already walking away.
"I'll be back," he said.
_ _ _
In a dimly lit, cluttered laboratory, the scent of burnt circuits and spilled coffee lingered in the air. Screens blinked with data, glowing formulas, and endless error messages. Amid the chaos sat a chubby man in a stained lab coat, hunched over his desk, munching loudly on a packet of spicy chips. Crumbs littered the keyboard as he clicked furiously, his eyes wide with manic determination.
"I must crack this!" he muttered through a full mouth, smearing oil across the desk. "If I can alter the formula at the moment of impact, then maybe—yes—just maybe I can counter it!"
One might think he was solving a world-shaking virus, a plague to save humanity from extinction. But no. On his monitor flashed the pixelated image of a knight in silver armor being disintegrated for the twentieth time by a monstrous black dragon.
"KO. You lose," the game announced.
"NO! I was this close!" he screamed, shaking his fists at the heavens.
A calm, blank voice interrupted from behind.
"What were you close to?"
The man spun around in panic, his chair creaking under his weight. Standing there was a striking young man with shoulder-length white and black hair, his face stoic and gaze cold.
"Oh! Young master Han!" The scientist laughed nervously, pausing his game and dusting off the crumbs. "What brings you here today?" he asked, forcing a smile. The light from the monitor cast an eerie glow on Han's unreadable expression.
"How is she?" Han asked quietly.
The man's grin faded. His eyes darted to the sealed chamber at the far end of the lab. A brief silence passed.
"She's... declining," the scientist said, rising to his feet with surprising seriousness. He led Han through the tangled mess of cables and machinery to a hidden room at the back.
Inside stood a tall glass capsule, filled with shimmering blue liquid. Suspended within was a beautiful woman in her late twenties. Her body floated peacefully, yet her skin was pale, her expression strained even in unconsciousness. Tubes pumped a glowing substance into her body.
Han placed a hand on the glass. "How long?" he asked without looking away.
"A year. Maybe. The Frostwater only slows the transformation... we can't reverse it. Not yet."
Han clenched his fists.
"This is all my fault."
---
Flashback – Eleven Years Ago
A younger Han, barely eight, stood trembling in a narrow alley. His small hands shook as he stared at the beast before him. Towering, blood-red, and covered in glistening scales, the monster's long tail smashed against the buildings, leaving craters with every swing.
"This is... a monster," Han whispered in horror. He had snuck past the guards, desperate to see what real monsters looked like. What he found was a nightmare incarnate.
The beast's eyes glowed yellow as it raised its tail to strike. Han couldn't move. His body betrayed him.
"Move!" his mind screamed.
But his legs buckled.
Just as the tail began to descend, a gust of wind surged past him. Arms wrapped around him. He was airborne.
"Wait... Am I flying?" he thought.
Looking up, he saw her — black hair fluttering, eyes sharp, the faint scent of jasmine on her coat.
"Aunt...?" he gasped.
"Don't speak," she said, her tone calm despite the monstrous growl behind her. She sprinted faster than anything he had ever seen. But the creature was gaining.
Then–
They hit a dead end.
She gently set him down. "Stay here. No matter what happens," she said with a smile, patting his head. Her sword slid out from its sheath, its edge shimmering with spiraling white energy.
BOOM!
The monster crashed down behind them, its grin revealing rows of jagged teeth.
"You. Hero human. I will kill you," it growled.
It spoke. That alone meant it was at least an A-rank monster.
She was only B-rank.
There was no way she could win — and yet, she charged.
Sparks exploded. The clash shattered windows nearby. For a moment, Han thought she was winning—until her body flew through the air and smashed against the wall next to him.
"Aunt!" he screamed, tears flooding his face.
She stood, blood dripping from her mouth.
"I... won't.... let you... kill my little brother," she said with fierce eyes, before collapsing to one knee.
The monster emerged, its body scarred, but not fatally.
"You humans... are persistent," it said, raising its claw.
She turned to Han.
"Han..." she whispered.
"Aunt…" Han whispered, guilt eating at him. He'd ignored her warnings. He came here chasing curiosity—now, she was dying because of him..
"I'm... sorry," she said, pulling something from her jacket — a syringe filled with swirling dark liquid, tinged with eerie green light.
"To keep you safe... I have no choice."
"Be safe, little one."
She plunged it into her neck. Her body spasmed. Veins turned black. Her face darkened with cursed energy. And yet, her eyes burned brighter than ever.
"If I'm dying... I'm taking you with me!" She said facing the Monster
She launched forward with an unholy cry.
---
Back to Present
Han stood before the chamber, eyes firm.
"I promised you, Aunt. I'll save you... no matter what."
The scientist sighed behind him.
"You shouldn't make promises like that. To even try, you'd need to awaken at least an A-rank skill and join a top-tier guild."
Han didn't blink.
"I'll awaken an S-rank skill... if that's what it takes to fulfill my responsibility."
The chamber lights flickered slightly.
Han turned, his voice cold, unwavering.
"I will bring her back... even if I have to burn the heavens."
Somewhere far away, a forgotten relic pulsed faintly.
And in the shadows, a pair of white eyes slowly opened—
"The vessel has been found..."
To be continued.