Chapter 1
The night was dark and silent, except for the whistle of the wind and the cawing of fleeing crows, as if they sensed an imminent danger. The sound of heavy footsteps on the iron gates grew louder.
Three masked men, their faces hidden beneath dark coats and scarves, advanced with calculated precision. One of them spoke in a cold, lifeless voice:
– "Is this the one?"
Their leader signaled, and they moved like wolves closing in on their prey.
Inside a warm, cozy house, laughter filled the rooms—a small family: a father, a mother, and their two children. But that peaceful moment shattered in an instant as the electricity went out, plunging the house into an eerie silence.
Suddenly, two masked figures broke through the windows, followed by their leader. The mother sensed the danger immediately, clutching her children and trying to flee. One of the masked men raised a firearm and fired.
The explosion deafened her, and time seemed to slow as she saw the bullet pierce her child's chest.
– "Ariiiiin!" the father shouted.
In a flash, the warm, safe atmosphere turned into chaos and terror.
The father, Luther, moved with deadly precision. He grabbed the first attacker by the face and crushed him like an insect, then appeared behind the second, piercing his chest. The man fell lifelessly.
The leader, however, merely smiled, his laughter growing hysterical. Luther seized him by the neck and dragged him out of the house.
But the masked leader activated a large explosive device, setting off a massive blast. Luther sensed the danger and threw the child away just in time. When the smoke cleared… the house lay in ruins.
The family was rushed by the clan's members. The mother collapsed, sobbing, as she held her severely injured son:
– "My son… he's badly hurt! Save him!"
Silence fell.
The clan leader, Grandfather Buthor, stepped forward. He took the boy in his arms, his eyes filled with sorrow:
"How… how is his core so damaged, yet he's still alive?"
He gritted his teeth, asking everyone to step back.
A faint blue aura emanated from him as he placed his hand over the child's heart, whispering softly.
When the smoke dissipated, the grandfather lay lifeless, but in his embrace, the boy still breathed weakly.
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✦ The Funeral
A solemn funeral was held for Grandfather Buthor and his son Luther.
The air was filled with cries, wails, and mourning. A month of mourning was declared, yet fingers of blame pointed at the mother, as if she were the cause of it all.
Three harsh years passed for the family, especially for the boy Zin (Ariin), who had lost his core and much of his power, growing weaker day by day.
---
✦ Three Years Later
On a gloomy morning, Zin rushed to wake his mother:
– "Mom! Wake up! It's already eight!"
But she lay still, unresponsive, a hollow figure weighed down by despair.
He left, carrying the heavy burden of grief, and headed to school.
There, a mocking voice called from behind, an arm draped over his shoulder:
– "Ah, look who it is… the rat! Ready for today's beating?"
Students gathered, whispering and sneering. Zin clenched his fists, taking a deep breath:
– "Step away, you fool."
The boy laughing at him pressed closer, his hand on Zin's face:
– "I didn't hear you, rat. Say that again!"
Before he could react, Zin delivered a swift punch to the face, followed by a series of precise blows.
The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers.
One boy pulled out a dagger, his eyes burning with lethal intent:
– "Let's see if you still have your regenerative power!"
The onlookers shouted in excitement:
– "Cut! Cut! Cut!"
Zin collapsed, unconscious under the relentless attacks…
In the shadows, on a nearby rooftop, a man in disguise watched.
Silent, unmoving, his sharp eyes never leaving the scene.
He muttered under his breath:
"So… this is the last heir."