Before the Story
Billions of years ago, Earth was nothing but stone and silence—a dead sphere saturated with unspent power.Raw life energy, Tao, coursed through its veins like blood with nowhere to go. Yet nothing lived. Nothing breathed.
From that unbearable pressure of creation, something finally took form.
Ragnarok.The first Yokai.
It had no gender.No hunger.No ambition.
It did not want to exist.It simply did.
Ages passed. Dust became soil. Oceans formed. And from the ruins of silence, humans emerged.
Unlike Ragnarok, humans possessed something dangerous: instinct.They fought to survive—and then learned how to thrive.
Humanity discovered Tao—not as a force to endure, but as a weapon to shape. Tao became blades, shields, miracles carved from will itself. With it, they founded the Hunter Organization, an order sworn to eradicate the Yokai and protect mankind at any cost.
Under Kin Yama, the First King, humanity united beneath a single banner—the Kingdom of Humanity.
That unity lasted a thousand years.
When Kin Yama's four sons were meant to inherit the throne together, greed poisoned blood. Brothers turned on brothers. War devoured the world, and from its ashes rose four nations:
Sao Kingdom
Yoru Kingdom
Natsu Empire
Zenith Republic
They agreed upon one law to end the conflict:
If only one prince remains, he shall be crowned King.
None ever have.
But one still dares to dream of that crown.
His name is Akira Yamato.
A sharp knock rattled the thin wooden door.
"Akira!"
A rough voice tore through his sleep.
"You still haven't paid for this inn!"
Akira groaned, rolling onto his side as pain throbbed behind his eyes. He dug through his pockets and found a single battered bill—his last. With a sigh, he shoved it into the innkeeper's hand.
"Pleasure doing business," the man sneered. "Now get out."
Outside, Akira stretched until his joints cracked. Morning sunlight caught the streak of white cutting through his black hair.
"Broke again," he muttered. "Guess I've got no choice but to visit her."
The shop was easy to miss—a crooked door wedged between taller buildings, the air inside thick with dried herbs and old paper. Behind the counter sat an elderly woman, eyes sharp despite the wrinkles carved into her face.
"Ah, Akira," she said with a knowing smile. "Back already? Down on your luck?"
He yawned. "Yeah. Got anything for me?"
She slid a folded note across the counter. "Bodyguard job. Atlas developer. Pays decent."
Akira pocketed it. "Thanks, Granny."
"Don't call me Granny," she snapped—though her smirk betrayed her.
He was already outside, phone to his ear.
"Hello? I'm here about guarding an Atlas developer."
"You're the one she mentioned?"
"…Yeah."
"Good. Meet me here. Ten minutes."
The call ended. A location pinged onto his screen—ten miles away.
Akira stared at it.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
He ran.
Through alleys and over rooftops, vaulting carts and fences as the city blurred behind him. By the time he stopped, lungs burning, he stood before an Atlas warehouse guarded by ten hired men.
"…Guess these are the others."
He slicked his hair back and joined the line.
Two men emerged—one in a tailored black suit, the other a nervous aide clinging to his side.
"You will escort me to a facility three miles east," the developer said without greeting. "There are no Tao barriers. We may encounter Yokai naturally."
Akira raised a brow. All this for a walk?
A woman among the guards spoke up. "We'll need a Taoist—or at least a Tao-infused weapon. Otherwise, I'm out."
"Sit down," the developer snapped. "It's only three miles."
His assistant leaned close. "Sir, perhaps we should wait for the Hunters—"
"They're unnecessary," the developer replied coolly. "If a Yokai appears, we'll be close enough to lose whoever we need."
Akira exhaled slowly. Charming.
The forest swallowed their path. Shadows stretched long between the trees. Silence pressed in.
Then—movement.
A lizard-headed Yokai dropped from the canopy.
Horns twisted like roots. Scales glinted green-black in the dim light.
It hissed.
Two guards died before anyone could scream.
The Yokai's tongue lashed out, coiling around three more men and smashing them into the earth until bone gave way. Panic erupted. Gunfire cracked uselessly against its scales. The developer and his assistant fired wildly before being dragged screaming through the dirt.
Akira watched—heartbeat steady, eyes burning.
There was an old saying: If you aren't a Taoist, stay out of the Taoist world.Yokai. Hunters. Tao.
It always ends tragically.
I always laughed it off, Akira thought.Guess I'm learning the hard way.
He looked down at his empty hands.
No gun. No weapon.
"Whatever," he muttered—and leapt.
He twisted mid-air, fist hardened, and struck the Yokai square in the jaw.
It barely moved.
One swipe sent him crashing through four trees. Trunks exploded. Air tore from his lungs in a single, brutal gasp.
Gunfire stopped.
Silence followed.
Only the developer remained, trembling.
"P-please… someone—!"
The Yokai grinned and drove a claw through his chest. A plastic ID card slipped free and fluttered to the ground.
Pinned beneath splintered wood, Akira's vision blurred as he stared at the name:
Steven Yung.
A dry laugh escaped him.
"…Hah. This sucks."
Darkness closed in.
The last thing he saw was motion—two figures dropping from the canopy, blades gleaming.
"Sora," one said, "is he alive?"