Prologue
Since the dawn of time, humans lived in ignorance, unaware of the dormant power buried deep within them.
One hundred and fifty years ago, everything changed.
The King of Earth — a being of immense power — descended from his throne to speak directly to humanity. He revealed the truth of their hidden strength: a divine gift lying dormant in every human soul.
From this revelation, three factions emerged.
The first sought to use this power for peace and evolution; the King named them Ambassadors.
The second rejected the duty to help others, living only for themselves. They became known as outlaws.
The third that denied to learn about their Power and Wanted to leave a Normal life , They became known as Freelancers.
Thirty years later, after mastering their abilities, a skilled Group of outlaws devised a forbidden technique: a way to vastly increase one's power at the cost of their humanity. Those who took this path became Genkis — corrupted beings of unimaginable strength, consumed by hunger for more power. Many joined willingly; others were forced.
NOW
BOOOM!
A deafening crash shook the city — the sound of a massive maggot slamming a man against the side of a tall building. Screams followed.
"All citizens are advised to follow emergency protocol C! This is not a drill! I repeat — this is not a drill!"
Lifeguards and support crews shouted as they herded people toward the Safe Rooms.
Panic swept through the streets. Parents clutched their children. Others ran alone, shoving past each other in desperation.
The corpses of mutant maggots littered the city — grotesque creatures of various species and sizes, all sharing the same feature: gaping wounds spilling green pulse, a sickly fluid that quickly drew swarms of insects.
Threats in this world were classified into five levels:
Level A – Fewer than three mutants in the city. Citizens must avoid the operation site.
Level B – More than three mutants in the city. Citizens must stay indoors.
Level C – A Genki-level event. Citizens must enter Safe Rooms built by the Ambassadors.
(The final two levels were rare; the last recorded case happened over one hundred years ago.)
From the chaos, an inhuman screech rang out.
A huge, three-eyed bird swooped down from the clouds, its third eye glowing faintly. In its beak it clutched a middle-aged man in blue pajamas covered in tiny mouse patterns. His hair was a mess, glasses crooked, and fresh horns jutted from his arms. Tears and snot streamed down his face.
"J-just let it take me away!" he wailed.
From the rubble of a collapsed building, a young man emerged — dust coating his dark hair and red jacket, matching his deep blue jeans. He looked to be in his late twenties. He glanced at the ascending bird, then at the maggot looming beside him.
"Hold on! I'm coming!"
He prepared to fly — but the maggot roared, poisonous teeth bared, bloodlust radiating from its pulsing body.
"Shit!"
"Air Bullet!"
Air molecules condensed between them, spinning violently until they formed a bullet of compressed force. It tore through the maggot's mouth and out the other side, the pressure blowing its body into shreds. Green pulse splattered the rubble — but not a drop touched him.
Gotta handle this fast, he thought, stepping forward as stones shifted beneath his feet.
VROOOM!
He flew into the air, leaving a cloud of dust behind. In an instant, he grabbed the bird's leg, ripping it clean off. The severed leg crumbled to ash in his hand. The bird shrieked but didn't drop its prey — it flapped harder, desperate to escape.
Its third eye began to glow. Sparks danced in the air.
"Don't waste my time, birdy!!"
Standing on top of a building, he pointed his fingers like a gun toward the creature.
"Air Bullet!"
The spinning particles struck the bird's neck. The explosion ripped its head apart, scattering blood and feathers across the city. The victim plummeted toward the ground — unharmed, thanks to a deliberate move from his rescuer.
As the pajama-clad man fell, memories flooded him:
His parents' death when he was eight.
The beatings at the orphanage.
Years of rejection at job interviews.
Being evicted after three months of unpaid rent.
A beautiful stranger taking him to dinner… only to reveal afterward that he had eaten a fragment of a Genki's body, triggering his transformation. She gave him three million dollars "for the trouble" and vanished.
The painful night when horns tore through his skin.
Her return — bringing mutants to collect him.
He knew the truth: once the process began, the only escape was death by purification — a sacred technique Ambassadors used to cleanse a Genki's soul before judgment.
"I got you!"
The red-jacketed man caught him midair.
"I'm glad you saved me," the horned man said, "but… it's no use."
"What's your name?"
"Gerald."
"Cool name. I'm Milo."
"I was tricked! I can't believe this is happening to me. I'm not ready to die!"
"I feel sorry for you," Milo said quietly. No worries — take as much time as you need.
Some Ambassadors gave victims time to prepare spiritually and mentally. Others considered it a waste. Gerald was lucky to meet a man with principles.
Tears and snot dripped onto Gerald's knees as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Mom… Dad… I couldn't make you proud."
Suddenly — PEWWWH!
Gerald's vision blurred. His body went numb. He looked down to see… his own head cradled in his hands, his neck gone. Blood filled his fading sight.
"I thought… you gave me time…" he gasped.
Milo froze. He hadn't struck the blow.
Standing behind him was a man in a black suit with a white collar, a golden sun emblem on his chest. A grim smile stretched across his face as a pink, glowing dice rolled along his fingers.
"Instant Purification."
He blew gently on the dice, sending it spinning into the air.
"Genkis don't deserve to die comfortably," he said. "Milo."
PART 2
Prologue 2
After twelve years of war, the Genkis had gained the upper hand. The surviving Ambassadors forged a fragile alliance with the remaining Outlaws to turn the tide. Together, they fought relentlessly and in the end, the Genkis were wiped from the face of the earth.
FLASHBACK ( 16 YEARS AGO WHEN MILO WAS 9 YEARS OLD)
It was a calm Thursday. The wind funneled through the streets of Brickville, and the sky was its usual clear blue. Milo was walking home from school, his yellow bag heavy on his shoulders and earpods blocking the sounds of the world.
His house was in one of Brickville's most remote districts. He walked to and from school daily, not out of necessity, but as training. His bag, made of a special material weighing 300 kilos, was always with him — in class, at lunch, everywhere. Milo's determination stemmed from one thing: his father. A Barrivion Ambassador, one of the seven elite operatives handling the most dangerous cases. Milo knew the shoes were impossible to fill, and he hadn't yet unveiled his own power — a sting he carried every day.
As he approached his street, a puff of black smoke rose into the sky. Even from afar, Milo knew: it was his house.
"Dad!"
He ran like he never had before, every ounce of energy in his legs pushing him forward with exhilarating force. In seconds, he reached his home.
What once had been a place of happiness was now a ruin. Smoke twisted into the sky. Water gushed from broken pipes. Kyoku traces scattered across the debris, remnants of a fierce battle.
His heart skipped a beat. A group of Ambassadors surrounded the house, their golden sun symbols glinting in the light. Shock and sadness were written on their faces.
A curvy woman in an assistant suit noticed Milo and whispered to a slim official beside her. The man nodded at Milo.
Fear froze him. The house he grew up in with his late mother — the home of his most precious memories — was gone.
"Hey… Milo."
"Who did this?" he demanded, anger and tears filling his eyes.
"Your dad… he's at the hospital," the woman said softly.
"Who did this? Tell me!"
"You'll be okay," she said, hugging him.
"No! Who did this?!" Milo screamed, voice trembling.
Then something extraordinary happened: the wind stopped. The rising smoke halted. Even the water flowing from the house froze in midair.
Silence fell. Everyone stared in fear and amazement. Milo's Kyoku element — Air— had activated instinctively.
BACK TO THE PRESENT( 16 YEARS LATER)
Blood continued to pool across the shop. A corpse knelt as it disintegrated into glowing light particles.
"I guess this is goodbye," Gerald said, fading.
"What have you done?" Milo demanded.
"Pity dulls your senses, Milo," Gerald replied.
"Conor! If you ever do that again—"
"I know, I know, I'll be in trouble. Besides, he's already dead," Conor said, his voice silly but principled.
Conor was foolish, friendly, and occasionally infuriating — but he and Milo shared one thing: they were both Midnight Rank Ambassadors.
"Why are you even here?" Milo asked.
"The chairman thought the sounds were scaring citizens, so they sent me to help!" Conor said.
"You got blood all over me! Now I have to clean up!"
"You're welcome! You needed to blow off some steam!" Conor laughed nervously. Milo scowled.
A car roared into view, stopping near them. A tall, muscular, bald man stepped out.
"Nights! Are you okay?" he shouted.
"We're alright, Zane," Conor replied, breaking the awkward silence.
"This city is starting to smell awful! Hope the cleaners get here fast," Zane muttered.
He paused, then added, "Tell Conor he's an idiot," and walked past.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to Brickville to take a bath."
"Why's he angry?"
"I purified the Genki without his consent," Conor admitted.
"You what?!" Zane shouted. A string of insults followed; Conor laughed nervously.
Zane was Soul Rank, a committee member with significant influence.
In Brickville city
Trees swayed gently in the calm wind, but the city still reeked of shock and fear. A corrupted human and a band of mutants had just been eliminated.
After bathing, Milo went out to eat. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt and black jeans.
"What can I get you?" a beautiful waiter asked.
"The usual."
"Rice and beans coming up."
Milo noticed the two new chefs in photos on the wall.
"Are they nice?"
"Yes."
"That's a relief," Milo said, smiling.
Laughter filled the room — until a sixteen-year-old boy entered.
Milo immediately sensed an immense surge of Kyoku — a power amplified far beyond normal. No one else seemed aware of it, but Milo knew instantly: this boy had been present the day his father died. The day his life changed.