The sun dipped low behind the hills as a boy with messy black hair and a worn-out blue backpack sprinted along a quiet dirt path. His eyes shimmered with hope. A smile tugged at his face.
A paper—an acceptance letter—peeked from the open zip of his bag.
"Mom! Dad!" he shouted, bursting through the front door of their small, two-storey home nestled in the forest, far from the city. "I finally made it! I got into my dream collage!!" he laughed breathlessly, holding the letter like a trophy.
Silence answered him.
His smile wavered.
He stepped cautiously into the guest room. Still grinning—until the world dropped out beneath him.
Blood.
The walls were smeared with it. The floor soaked. Two still bodies lay in the middle of the room.
"M... Mom?" His voice cracked. "Dad...?"
The letter slipped from his hand.
He fell to his knees. His breath stuttered, fists clenched. Eyes wide. Hollow. Like his soul had been carved out.
No tears came. The pain went deeper than that.
Then—laughter.
Not human.
Sick. Twisted. Giggles bubbling up from the backyard, like choking on joy.
His ears twitched. Something inside him shattered.
He staggered to his feet, stumbled to a tall wooden case on the wall. Hands trembling, he opened it.
Inside, a katana. Old. Sacred. Untouched by time.
An heirloom from a hunter long forgotten.
His fingers gripped the hilt. The blade whispered as it left the sheath.
He stepped outside.
Four figures stood in the yard—skin pale, faces twisted with eternal grins. Dead eyes. Jittery movements. Laughter spilling from their mouths like broken music boxes.
One turned.
Then all charged.
Kyron's scream was raw, feral. The blade moved—more instinct than thought.
He slashed. Limbs flew. But the Smilers only regenerated, their flesh bubbling back into place like wax near fire.
His rage erupted. A red aura burst from his body—violent, blazing, consuming.
The ground cracked beneath his feet. His strikes now burned.
They didn't get up again.
Each blow carried the weight of his grief, his disbelief, his fury. The katana sang. Smilers fell, one by one.
Then—stillness.
Kyron stood panting, trembling, arms streaked in blood. The katana slipped from his fingers and landed with a dull thud.
He fell to his knees.
His reflection blinked up at him from the steel. Not a boy anymore. Something had died in his eyes.
"I need answers," he whispered. "I won't let this be meaningless."
He buried his parents with his own hands.
That night, he packed everything: old books on Emotion Techniques, scattered research papers, food, cash, forged IDs. He shouldered the same backpack that once carried a dream. Now, it carried a mission.
He vanished into the forest.
Hours passed. He studied while walking, flipping pages of a worn book titled The Fundamentals of Emotion Techniques, trying to understand anything.
Then—he heard it.
Steel. Screams. Roars.
He ran.
In a clearing, a monstrous green Smiler towered over two young fighters. Nearly three meters tall—its grotesque, swollen body a patchwork of muscle and rot.
The girl flew through the air, crashing near Kyron with a groan. She looked up, spat blood, and snapped, "Hey! You just gonna stand there, or help, lazy Hunter?!"
Kyron blinked. "I—"
"No time for that! Sword. Now!" she barked, getting to her feet.
The boy yelled, "Me and Riya will stun him—go for the heart!"
Kyron gasped. His grip tightened on the katana.
He ran forward.
Riya glowed with a soft pink aura. The boy's was cold and deep blue. Love and Fear. Their attacks disoriented the beast, staggering it.
Kyron's rage flared once more. A red aura surged around him—hot and violent.
He leapt, katana high.
The blade pierced the Smiler's chest.
A scream shook the forest. Then, silence.
The beast fell.
Panting, Kyron looked at the two.
The boy offered a hand. "Nice work. I'm Arnav. That loudmouth is Riya."
Riya scoffed, brushing off leaves. "You're welcome, newbie."
Kyron nodded, still breathing hard. "I'm Kyron."
He didn't know what tomorrow held.
But his fire had only begun to burn.
The battlefield was silent.
The green Smiler's body began disintegrating into ash, leaving only its twisted grin behind. Kyron stood motionless, his katana still glowing faintly, its golden aura pulsing like a dying ember. Smoke curled from the charred ground. The smell of blood and burnt emotion clung to the air.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there.
Arnav was breathing heavily beside him, still trembling. Riya knelt nearby, wiping her blade and blinking away tears.
Kyron's hands were shaking. Not from fear — not entirely. From release. The weight of rage, the scream he had carried since seeing his parents' mangled bodies — it had found a voice.
And that voice had killed.
"Is this what I've become…?" he thought, gripping the hilt tightly.
The katana pulsed again — not angrily, not calmly. Like it was… watching.
---
Later…
Their journey was quiet. No more Smilers came. Just the occasional cold gust of wind and the rustle of pine trees overhead.
"Are you okay?" Riya asked gently, breaking the silence.
Kyron didn't answer at first.
Then: "I'm not sure."
Arnav gave him a look. "You're tough, man. That was insane back there. You could've died."
"I didn't," Kyron replied flatly. "But they did."
They walked on.
---
Headquarters
It stood like a mansion pulled from another world — tall iron gates, gothic towers, walls carved with strange patterns glowing faintly blue. This was the Smiler Hunters Association.
A man leaned casually against the front steps.
He was about 5'10", lean but toned, messy black hair tied into a short ponytail. His crimson jacket fluttered in the breeze, and despite the cold, he wore no gloves. His katana was strapped across his back, twin wings engraved on the hilt.
He had a smirk that screamed I-don't-care-but-I'm-stronger-than-you.
"Took you three long enough," he said lazily. "Thought I'd have to call for a funeral."
Arnav's face lit up. "AYUSH!"
"You still alive, weakling?" Ayush grinned and gave him a rough hug. "Didn't get eaten yet?"
"Almost did," Arnav muttered.
Ayush's gaze fell on Kyron. His smirk faded just a little.
"So… you're the new one."
Kyron nodded, unsure what to say. Ayush's eyes scanned him up and down like a scanner. Then he grinned.
"You've got that main character nonsense in your eyes."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyron frowned.
"It means you're either gonna be a legend… or a corpse."
He turned and walked up the steps. "Come on. You're late for hell."
---
Inside the Base
The inside of the mansion was nothing like Kyron expected.
Futuristic metal halls met ancient stained glass. Hunters in dark uniforms trained in emotion chambers, some surrounded by flames, others glowing with water, shadows, or light. Holy water tanks lined the walls like sacred fuel reserves. The air was thick with power — and pain.
Ayush walked them into a briefing room. Giant paintings lined the walls — each one showing a Smiler with hollow, smiling eyes. In the center was a cracked black mask, mounted behind glass.
"First Smiler ever killed," Ayush said. "Took down 6 Hunters before it fell. That was before Emotion Techniques were even invented."
Kyron stared at the mask. Something about it… felt alive.
---
The Test
"You new one, you aren't a hunter yet," Ayush said, sitting lazily on the desk.
"What do you mean?" Asked Kyron
"Surviving one fight isn't enough. You need training. Real training and non-hunters aren't allowed in this secret association," he said, nodding at Kyron. "You've got raw anger — I can smell it from here. But it'll eat you alive if you don't learn control."
"Then teach me," Kyron said. "I want answers."
Ayush's eyes narrowed. "That so?"
He leaned forward. "Then you're going into the Frozen Forest."
Arnav paled. "Bro… seriously?"
Riya stiffened. "People don't come back from there."
"Exactly," Ayush smiled. "Which is why it's perfect."
---
The Frozen Forest
"A land where emotion plays tricks on your soul. You'll fight Smilers that use your own memories against you. And unless you master the basics of your Emotion Style, you're as good as dead."
He stood, turning his back to them.
"You leave tomorrow at dawn."
Kyron felt the weight settle in his chest. He wasn't ready. He was barely breathing through the storm in his mind.
But then he looked at the katana in his hand.
He remembered the glow. The rage. The feeling of something awakening.
"I'll survive."
"No matter what's in that forest — I'll survive."
Ayush grinned.
"Good. Then let the war of emotions begin."
---