The sky darkened with swirling red and black clouds, lightning crackling like wild serpents across the heavens. But this wasn't an ordinary storm—it was the birth of a legend.
A young boy, Zikodi Zam, stood beside his dying mother. Her breathing was weak, her eyes tired but filled with hope as she looked into her son's face. She managed a faint smile, brushing his cheek with trembling fingers.
"Zam…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Your father was a great fighter. Now, it's your turn. You have a power inside you… even if you don't know it yet."
Before Zam could respond, a looming shadow fell over them. The Dangerers had arrived—dark, twisted figures granted unholy power by the God of Dangerers. At their front stood Petit Vikik, a terrifying presence wrapped in black aura.
Zam's mother pushed him behind her, shielding him with the last of her strength. But she fell that day, a mother protecting her child from the darkness.
Years later...
Zam, now a teenager, had grown into a cheerful but serious young man. Though he lacked aura, he trained hard every day, trying to make up for it with sheer will.
He grunted as he finished his 100th pull-up on a thick branch of an old tree. Sweat streamed down his face as he dropped to the ground and reached for the bottle of water resting in the shade. Taking a long sip, he exhaled deeply and walked toward the edge of the hill.
Standing there, staring at the distant horizon, he muttered, "I wonder if I'll ever be able to use aura in my life."
On his way home, a group of kids his age spotted him. A girl scoffed, smirking. "I heard that kid can't even use aura."
A boy next to her snorted with laughter. "What a useless brat, right?"
Their laughter echoed behind him, but Zam didn't react. He had heard worse. He had learned to keep walking.
That evening, at home, Zam brewed a cup of coffee and sat in silence. His eyes lingered on the rising steam. "If only Mom were here…" he whispered.
Later, while shopping for vegetables, he accidentally bumped into a man in the supermarket aisle. The man had a calm, strong presence.
"Sorry," Zam said quickly, stepping back.
The man looked him over, his gaze sharp. "You've got impressive muscles for your age," he said with a smile.
Zam shrugged. "Thanks… no one usually notices."
"What's your dream, young man?"
Zam hesitated. "Don't laugh... I don't have an aura, but I want to become the Fighter King."
The man's smile widened. "I wouldn't laugh at that. If you want, I can train you. I'm a martial arts teacher… a former S-rank fighter."
Zam blinked. "Really? You'd train me?"
"Of course. Right now is the perfect time—I don't have any students."
Zam, now a teenager, had grown into a cheerful but serious young man. Though he lacked aura, he trained hard every day, trying to make up for it with sheer will.
He grunted as he finished his 100th pull-up on a thick branch of an old tree. Sweat streamed down his face as he dropped to the ground and reached for the bottle of water resting in the shade. Taking a long sip, he exhaled deeply and walked toward the edge of the hill.
Standing there, staring at the distant horizon, he muttered, "I wonder if I'll ever be able to use aura in my life."
On his way home, a group of kids his age spotted him. A girl scoffed, smirking. "I heard that kid can't even use aura."
A boy next to her snorted with laughter. "What a useless brat, right?"
Their laughter echoed behind him, but Zam didn't react. He had heard worse. He had learned to keep walking.
That evening, at home, Zam brewed a cup of coffee and sat in silence. His eyes lingered on the rising steam. "If only Mom were here…" he whispered.
Later, while shopping for vegetables, he accidentally bumped into a man in the supermarket aisle. The man had a calm, strong presence.
"Sorry," Zam said quickly, stepping back.
The man looked him over, his gaze sharp. "You've got impressive muscles for your age," he said with a smile.
Zam shrugged. "Thanks… no one usually notices."
"What's your dream, young man?"
Zam hesitated. "Don't laugh... I don't have an aura, but I want to become the Fighter King."
The man's smile widened. "I wouldn't laugh at that. If you want, I can train you. I'm a martial arts teacher… a former S-rank fighter."
Zam blinked. "Really? You'd train me?"
"Of course. Right now is the perfect time—I don't have any students."
As the sun dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in gold and orange, Zam walked home, his mind racing.
"That guy… Urakaki. A former S-rank fighter? And he wants to train me?" he thought aloud. "No one's ever said something nice about me… Not like that."
He stepped inside his hut. The creaky wooden door closed behind him as he placed the vegetables on the counter and began preparing a simple dinner. Afterward, sitting by the window, coffee in hand, he whispered again, "If only Mom was here…"
That night, lying in bed beneath the wooden ceiling, the sounds of crickets outside, a breeze slipping through the window, Zam smiled faintly.
"Maybe this is it… Maybe this is where my real journey begins."
At sunrise, Zam made his way to Urakaki's place—a modest home surrounded by open space, ideal for martial arts training.
From the moment he arrived, he trained with relentless focus. Urakaki watched him closely, impressed by Zam's intelligence, sharp instincts, and unwavering drive. Despite having no aura, Zam adapted to every technique rapidly. His fists grew faster. His stances more solid. His movements sharper.
Nearby, another boy observed quietly. Rolio Zoku, older than Zam, trained under Urakaki as well. Though proud and hot-headed, Rolio carried something powerful inside him—the dormant Dragon Misoma, a legendary force passed down his bloodline.
Three intense months passed. Urakaki poured his knowledge into Zam and Zoku. Zam, despite being aura-less, was unstoppable. He trained until his muscles burned, and his body ached. But he never stopped. Not once.
After one particularly grueling session, Urakaki looked at him and said, "You're ready to walk your own path, Zam. You may not have aura… but you have something more dangerous—belief."
That evening, Zam found Rolio sitting by the cliffside, gazing into the forest.
"Rolio," Zam said, sitting beside him. "I've decided to start my own fighter squad. I want to prove that even someone like me can reach the top."
He smiled faintly. "I'll call it… Zambrox."
Rolio raised an eyebrow. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
"Never," Zam replied with a grin.
Rolio stood and smirked. "Then count me in. Just don't slow me down, captain."
From afar, Urakaki watched them silently, a faint smile on his lips. "They're not ready for what's coming… but they will be."
Thus, the first two members of Zambrox stood side by side—one without aura, the other without control over his power. And with that, Zam's journey as a fighter truly began—not with strength, but with heart.