Chapter 1: Crimson Veins in Ashes
Opening Scene: The World
The city sprawled like a wound across the earth. Towering skyscrapers—rusted, cracked, and half-abandoned—stared down at streets slick with soot, rain, and blood. Neon signs flickered, powerless against the omnipresent darkness. Somewhere in the alleys, a scavenger screamed, the sound swallowed instantly by the grinding, industrial hum of the city.
The government no longer ruled here. Gangs of corrupted Flow-users—descendants of clans long erased—roamed freely. Ordinary citizens cowered, paying protection money or disappearing into the night. Those who resisted were left broken or worse.
A single law existed: Survival came at the expense of another.
Scene 2: Ajin Enters
Ajin Akura walked through this nightmare like a ghost. Shadows clung to him, his black combat boots sloshing through puddles of rainwater mixed with ash. His striped shirt clung to his frame, sleeves rolled halfway up, revealing faint crimson-black tattoos curling along his forearms like living veins.
Every step exuded lethal precision. He wasn't just a man—he was a warning.
Even the gang members hanging by a neon-lit corner froze for a heartbeat as he passed. The older ones recognized the Akura sigil etched faintly on his gauntlets. Whispers followed him like vultures circling carrion.
"The last Akura… a ghost."
Ajin didn't acknowledge them. His mind was elsewhere: calculating, weighing, planning.
Scene 3: The Mission
Ajin's destination was the Black Market of Flow Relics, deep in the city's lower underbelly. He moved with silence and purpose, stepping over broken glass and corpses alike.
Inside, the stench of blood, iron, and burnt oil hit him. Merchants haggled over weapons, Flow scrolls, and cursed relics, while heavily tattooed Flow-users played dice with their limbs—betting lives as casually as coins.
Ajin ignored the chaos. His goal was singular: retrieve a forbidden scroll belonging to the Akura Clan, one that contained techniques lost for generations.
But he knew every step drew attention. Every movement could be his last.
Scene 4: Encounter with Oppression
A man, taller and bulkier than most, blocked his path. His body was a map of scars and tattoos. Flow pulsed visibly beneath his skin—an ominous red glow.
"What do we have here?" the man sneered. "A lost child playing in the ruins? The Akura's last ghost… come to die, huh?"
Ajin didn't flinch. He tilted his head slightly, steel-gray eyes boring into the man.
"I didn't come to talk," Ajin said, voice low, calm, like a predator.
The man laughed, the sound hollow and cruel. "Then die."
Before a punch could land, Ajin's tattoos ignited faintly, crimson veins glowing along his arms. His gauntlets flared with a dangerous heat.
In a blur, Ajin's fist struck the man's chest, sending him crashing into a stack of Flow scrolls. The other patrons gasped—the air itself seemed to freeze.
Ajin didn't smile. He never did. He simply walked past, retrieving the scroll and melting back into the darkness.
Scene 5: Internal Reflection
As he emerged into the rainy streets, Ajin's mind drifted.
"They all see a monster… but they don't know what monsters are. They've forgotten who we were. They don't know the truth… and maybe that's for the best."
The crimson tattoos receded slowly, leaving faint burn marks beneath his skin. He clutched the scroll to his chest, feeling the weight not just of the paper, but of the history, blood, and curse it represented.
Somewhere in the distance, a child screamed. Somewhere else, a life ended unnoticed. And above all, the city remained the same—dark, broken, and merciless.
Ajin lifted his head, rain soaking his hair and running down his sharp eyes.
"I will restore the Akura… or I will die trying. And if they call me a monster… I will become one that even they cannot forget."
With that, he disappeared into the night, a lone shadow carrying the legacy of a fallen clan, the weight of curses in his veins, and the fire of vengeance in his soul.