"Peace… sometimes it feels like a dream that ends in a nightmare."
It was a beautiful day in Nurimi Village. Quiet. Peaceful. The wind brushed gently against the skin, and the sunlight felt like nature's warm embrace. Every corner of the village was alive—fathers sweating as they tilled the fields, children screaming with joy as they played tag, mothers laughing while doing laundry by the river, and elders sitting calmly under the shade of mango trees, watching over their grandchildren.
There was a music to the silence and the joy. A typical day. No one knew it would be their last "normal" moment.
Until suddenly—
"GRRRAAAGHHHH!!!"
A deep, savage, deafening roar echoed from the northern woods. Monsters—straight from hell—began to emerge. First one. Then more. Then all at once.
Everything stopped.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
BLAG! BLAG! BLAG!
The ground shook with every step. The earth trembled. Animals went wild. Carabaos bucked in panic. Dogs barked without end.
KRAAASH!
Trees collapsed in the distance.
Then they were seen.
"Monsters!!!"
All shapes and forms—some had skin like stone, others were covered in hair, some slithered as they let out bone-chilling screeches. Their eyes burned red—starving, insatiable, like hunger that never ends. In an instant, the happy village turned into a battlefield of nightmares.
"Ruuuun!!!"
Screams. Chaos. Mothers crying as they clutched their children. Elders scrambling. Houses crumbled. Blood soaked the earth. No one was spared. Child. Adult. Animal.
All were devoured by the monsters' rage.
The laughter, the stories, the joyful noise—all replaced by screams of fear, cries of the wounded, and the groans of the dying.
20 years later – Irigan Village
The tragedy of Nurimi Village had become legend. In the history books, it was called The First Fall. Because of it, Irigan Village formed new alliances—guilds, hunters, and a ranking system to protect people from the monsters.
From F to SSS Rank. Warriors ready to sacrifice everything.
In a modest hut on the outskirts of Irigan Village lived Joe, 18 years old, with his grandfather, Elmir. Day by day, they fought poverty. Most days, they had nothing for lunch except hunger.
Until one day…
Joe walked toward the market. Starving. Nothing left to eat. And in sheer desperation—
"Hey! Thief!"
Run.
Turn back.
Left.
Hide.
The vendor chased him, but Joe was quick. He knew how to survive this game of life. When he finally got away, he smiled. "Thank God… Grandpa and I can finally eat," he whispered to himself.
But the joy didn't last.
A scream.
A loud, chilling scream from beyond the village.
"GRRRRAAAHHHH!!!"
People heard it again.
Panic. The bells rang. Hunters were called. Everyone prepared.
Joe? He ran straight home.
"GRANDPA!!"
When he arrived—
The door was broken. The roof shattered.
In the middle of the room… a giant monster.
Dark. Massive. Red-eyed. And in its mouth—Elmir's body. Bloody. Dragged. Slowly being eaten.
Joe froze. Cold. Time stood still.
But something in his chest exploded. Rage. Fear. Grief.
"ARGHHHHHH!!!"
A scream of pure desperation.
He pulled the two karambit from the sheaths strapped to his sides. Charged.
Pak!
Swoosh!
Clang!
He didn't stop. One strike. Two. Ten. He fought, knowing the odds were hopeless.
But with one swing from the monster—
BLAG!
He was thrown back. Bloody. Limping. Barely standing.
But he forced himself up.
Trembling. Crying. Burning with fury.
"I won't leave… not while I'm still breathing…" Even if his body was broken in fear, his heart stood strong in anger.
The monster rushed him. Ready to crush him.
And then—
BOOOOOOOM!!!
Everything went black.
Joe's body collapsed, motionless. But his mind floated… somewhere else.
He opened his eyes—not in the burning village, not in pain—but in an empty space.
Darkness.
No pain. No light. No sound.
Just… nothing.
Then—
A whisper. Soft, cold, but ancient.
"Why did you fight when you knew you would die?"
Joe's eyes fluttered open, but there was no ground beneath him. No sky. Just an endless expanse of stars—twinkling not with hope, but with sorrow.
He floated, alone. Still covered in blood. His fingers trembled.
"...Lolo…" he whispered, barely audible.
Then the whispers became voices.
"You could've run."
"You could've lived."
"You chose pain. You chose death. Why?"
Joe clutched his chest. The weight of guilt crushed him harder than the monster's blow.
"I… I didn't want to run. I couldn't…"
"You failed."
"You were too weak."
"He died… because you weren't enough."
His breathing hitched. His knees dropped in the void, and yet there was nothing to kneel on. Only despair.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Memories began to flash—his grandfather's laughter, the stories he told at night, the warmth of their little fire during cold evenings. Then the image of Elmir's body… limp… half-devoured…
He screamed.
But no one answered.
Until—golden light. A silhouette. Tall, cloaked in shifting constellations. Eyes like galaxies, voice like the silence after a funeral.
An Eternal.
"You are at the edge of the river between life and death," it spoke. "You may cross. Or you may return."
Joe looked up, his voice shaking. "Why me…?"
"Because you screamed with a soul not for revenge—but for love."
Joe lowered his head. "But I was too late."
"And if we give you power—will you still be too late?"
He hesitated.
Then, more voices—new Eternals, encircling him. Each of them whispered different questions. Not to answer… but to wound.
"Will you kill the child of the one who killed your grandfather if it saves the world?"
"Will you burn a hundred innocents if it means reviving one loved one?"
"What's a soul worth to you, Joe? What's your heart willing to destroy?"
He sobbed.
"I… I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
Silence again.
Then a small hand touched his shoulder.
A child Eternal. Eyes like pure dawn.
"You don't have to know the answers now. But if you accept our gift… your path will force you to learn. Through pain. Through blood. Through choices no one should ever have to make."
Joe looked into the child's eyes. There was no malice. Just truth.
"I'm not ready…"
The child smiled sadly.
"No one ever is."
Then a bright symbol burned on Joe's chest—a spiral made of sword and flame.
"Then rise, Bearer of the Aura Flame. The world will not wait for your healing."
Light swallowed him.
And in that final second before he vanished from the realm of Eternals, he heard one last question—
"If you could go back… would you still open that door?"
Then—
Cold.
Silent.
Joe slowly opened his eyes. lying in a bed of ashes and bone. Weak. Shivering.
The first thing he saw was the sky—a gray sky filled with smoke. At the edge of his vision were burned rooftops, fallen posts, and ashes all around.
"Iri… gan?" he whispered faintly.
But this wasn't the Irigan he remembered. The once lively village was now nothing but ash and ghosts. It felt familiar, yet everything looked different. The children were gone. His grandfather was gone.
He wanted to get up, but his chest felt heavy.
"Where am I…?"
A burning mark bloomed on his chest—a spiral made of blade and fire.
And just before light engulfed him—
Joe gasped.
His body shot upright—alive.
But this wasn't life.
This was something else.
Something heavier.
And deep inside his mind, a new voice whispered—cold, neutral, and terrifyingly calm.
TING!
A sharp chime echoed in his skull. Like a bell inside his mind and then the screen pop-up.
>[SYSTEM BOOTING…] Welcome, Designated Carrier of Aura Flame. You have been reincarnated. Your journey begins now.
>[Warning: Path is unstable. Morality variable.]
>[Emotional collapse: 12% Please proceed with caution.]
Due to the shock, joe lost consciousness.