Garreth Blackthorn — once a legendary S-rank Superhuman — now lived a quiet life in the peaceful town of Willowshade. Ten years ago, when his son Azztheo was only four, Garreth and his wife, Claire, an A-rank Superhuman, embarked on a top-secret mission deep into demon territory. But they were ambushed.
Claire had gone ahead to scout, but she never returned. Slain by demons, her body was never recovered. Garreth fought like a man possessed, but the odds were overwhelming. Gravely injured, he barely made it out alive.
Since then, he had taken early retirement, retreating from the world of war and bloodshed. Haunted by grief and guilt, he chose to live a quiet life, raising his son in peace — far from the battlefield that had claimed his beloved.
---
Back to the present:
"Garreth," Jorta sneered, his blade-like arms glinting under the warped light, "how much longer can you burn your lifespan to power that little trick of yours? You're destroying what little strength you have left. Kekeke… and for what? You can't even fight me properly in this broken state."
Garreth said nothing.
He knew the demon was playing with his mind, trying to shatter his focus — to make him crumble before the fight was over. The battlefield was cloaked in darkness, a shadow field created by Garreth's affinity. It swallowed all light within fifty meters, making it nearly impossible for Jorta to track him visually.
Suddenly, Garreth appeared behind the demon and landed a hard punch to the back of his skull. Jorta staggered, wincing as he swung his curved blades in a wide arc — but Garreth had already vanished back into the shadows.
"You want to know how we killed your precious wife?" Jorta hissed, voice low and venomous. "She screamed so sweetly in agony. Such pain. Ah, but you never saw it, did you? Couldn't even bring her body back. You left her to rot in the demon world. Alone."
Garreth roared, pain and fury twisting in his chest.
"DON'T TALK! SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!"
He charged — reckless, emotional — and in that split second, Jorta found his opening. A flash of his blade, and a deep, jagged wound tore across Garreth's chest. Blood gushed from the cut as he stumbled back, breath ragged.
He tried to regroup, melting into the shadows once more. But his power, fueled by burning his own life force, was beginning to flicker. The darkness was thinning. His vision blurred.
I've bought enough time for Azztheo, Garreth thought bitterly. This wasn't how I planned it. I was going to show this power to Azztheo one day — when he awakened. Maybe even train him a little. Guess I can't make it.…
As the darkness dissolved, Jorta stepped forward, grinning cruelly. Garreth lay collapsed, struggling to breathe, blood soaking his torn shirt.
"Kekeke… why so stubborn?" Jorta crouched beside him. "That wound you got from a Legendary-rank demon weapon back in the day — it never healed, did it? You've been dying slowly for years."
Garreth glared up at him, lips trembling. "Just… kill me."
Jorta's voice turned cold. "Give me what you stole from the demon world."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Garreth rasped.
"You really won't talk?" Jorta's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe I'll bring your son here. I wonder what kind of scream he'll make."
Garreth's eyes widened he said coughing. "No. Leave him out of this! just kill me, I don't know anything!" As he fainted losing life force.
Before Jorta could respond, a lower demon — a C-rank scout — appeared beside him.
"Jorta," the demon reported, "our scouts say Superhuman reinforcements are closing in."
Jorta clicked his tongue, frustrated. "Tch. Fine."
He looked down at Garreth one last time. "Bring him. We're taking him to the demon world."
The demon looked at Garreth and replied. "But he won't make it, he lost too much life force using his power and he was already injured state"
Jorta replied. " Bring him dead or alive, we have to report the higher ups, it's not on us what higher up decides...
When Azztheo returned, the peaceful town of Willowshade had already become a graveyard.
Buildings were shattered, smoke still rose from the ruins, and the air was heavy with the scent of ash and blood. Bodies lay strewn across the streets — some covered, some not. Survivors cried as they searched for loved ones. Grief hung thick, choking the sky.
But Azztheo didn't stop.
Step by step, heart pounding with dread yet clinging to hope, he walked through the devastation, searching. His eyes scanned every corner, every shadow.
Then he saw them — four or five Superhumans standing near the heart of the wreckage. They wore combat gear, expressions grim, murmuring among themselves as they surveyed the destruction.
"…from the residual power waves, it looks like a B-rank demon fought with a C-rank Superhuman," one man said, crouching by a scorched crater. "But the superhuman energy signature is unstable… kept fluctuating. It doesn't add up."
They noticed him.
"Hey, kid!" one of the men called out, stepping forward. "It's dangerous here. You shouldn't be—"
"My dad…" Azztheo interrupted, his voice trembling. "My dad fought here. Did you see him?"
The Superhumans exchanged uneasy glances.
A woman stepped forward. She had a calm demeanor and kind eyes beneath her helmet.
"I'm Lina," she said gently. "C-rank Superhuman. Can you tell me your father's name?"
Azztheo swallowed hard. "His name is… Garreth. Garreth Blackthorn. I didn't even know he was a Superhuman. He never told me."
Shock rippled through the group.
"Did he say Garreth Blackthorn?" one man whispered.
"Wait… the Garreth Blackthorn? The S-rank powerhouse?" another said, wide-eyed. "He and Claire Stormcrest — they were a legendary duo before they vanished."
"I heard they went on a classified mission and never came back," someone else muttered. "Garreth was injured badly, they say. He must've retired… hiding out here all this time…"
Lina turned back to Azztheo and knelt to meet his eyes.
"Don't worry," she said softly. "We'll do everything we can to find your father. He was a respected hero. If we uncover anything — anything at all — we'll let you know immediately."
Azztheo nodded, his throat tight. The Superhumans lingered a moment longer before quietly departing, leaving Azztheo standing alone among the ashes.
As the Superhumans spread out to handle the chaos and coordinate rescue efforts, Azztheo turned away from the ruins with heavy steps.
He walked through the shattered remnants of Willowshade, past streets where he once played, past neighbors who now wept over lost family. His eyes burned, but no tears came — his heart was holding on to a single, fragile hope.
Dad promised he'd come back, I must stay strong and wait for him.