The shack's rusted roof crackled under the weight of the morning sun. Burnt grass crunched under boot soles as Company 7 moved in with disciplined silence. A blackened scorch mark spread out in a near-perfect spiral from the shed's foundation, as if something had burned reality itself. Inside, curled near the doorway with a dented golf club still clutched tight in one hand, lay the boy.
Brown-skinned. Curly-haired. Bare-chested and shoeless, his body smeared with soot and old blood. His right eye was shut—scarred as if something inside it was still smoldering.
"Sir, we found one survivor," the lead scout muttered through his comm bead. "Still breathing. Looks like... he's the one who did this."
Outside, the Fire Force transport hissed as the doors swung open. Commander Shin stepped down—sleek, armored, and burning with quiet authority. The insignia of the Solar Brand shimmered across his uniform, glinting like heat mirage.
Hours Later – Fire Force Outpost 09
Kai's wrists were cuffed to the table, still stained from the previous night's carnage. The interrogation room pulsed faintly with heat—too faint to notice, unless you were like him.
Across the table, Commander Shin leaned forward, forearms tense, eyes sharp.
"So," Shin began, "you were found unconscious outside a shed, surrounded by half-dead trespassers, most with blunt force trauma. Want to tell me what the hell happened out there?"
Kai's voice was low, wary. "They broke in. Armed. I didn't kill them, just—just stopped them."
"Stopped them?" Shin echoed. "With a golf club?"
Kai glanced away. "They weren't the problem. The last one... he changed."
Silence lingered.
"Changed?" Shin repeated flatly.
"He turned. Black smoke, heat—I know what it was." Kai's gaze slowly met his. "He became an Infernal."
The word dropped like a match in oil.
Shin's expression didn't shift—but the heat in the room did.
"Infernals," he said slowly, "have not existed in over a thousand years."
Kai sat up straighter. "No. I saw it. Just like before. The fire. The... eyes. It was Adolla."
Shin didn't move for a full second.
Then—fwssshhh—a low hum built in the air. Kai flinched as a narrow beam of focused flame extended from Shin's index finger, pointed directly at his chest. It didn't touch him, but the heat radiated like a miniature sun. Sharp. Unyielding.
"You know that name." Shin's voice lost its composure. "You said Adolla. And you knew what an Infernal was. How?"
Kai's fists tightened. "Because I've seen them. I've fought them. I was one of them."
The commander's brow furrowed.
"I was White-Clad. Long ago. I turned on them when it mattered most. I tried to stop the Cataclysm."
The beam intensified, light splitting around it in dancing particles.
Kai didn't flinch.
"The Great Cataclysm happened a thousand years ago," Shin said, barely restraining his fury. "You're not that old."
Kai's right eye fluttered open. The faintest glow stirred inside the iris. A clover-shaped pupil spun slowly into place.
"I remember it like it was yesterday."
Shin froze.
The room dimmed for half a second, as if the sun had blinked.