Chapter 1: The Outcast
The sun had long since set, and the streets of Shirozawa City were lit by the weak, flickering glow of streetlamps. A cold wind swept through the narrow alleys, tugging at the corners of discarded newspapers and urging the few remaining passersby to quicken their steps. The hum of the city faded into the distance until all that remained was the lonely rhythm of shoes against concrete.
In a quiet corner of the city, far from the bright towers of the inner districts, walked a boy carrying a worn school bag.
Kaito Arima, eighteen years old, trudged home under the pale light of the moon. The chill in the air seeped into his bones, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were heavier than the night around him. While his classmates spoke excitedly about their futures—military academies, elite guilds, government assignments—Kaito's path was an empty one.
In this world, every human was "chosen" at sixteen—granted powers by celestial beings, demons, spirits, or other supernatural forces. They called it the Baptism of the Veil, a rite that defined your worth. Some received the blessing of angels, some the curse of demons, and others the gifts of forgotten gods.
But Kaito had received nothing.
For two years, he had borne that emptiness like a scar. In a society where power was everything, being powerless was worse than death.
"Still no powers, Arima? What are you, a failure?"
The voice came from behind. Kaito froze, recognizing it instantly.
Kurozumi Ryuji, tall and broad-shouldered, stood beneath a streetlamp, the faint outline of a black flame flickering around him—his mark as a bearer of the Shadow Demon. Ryuji was everything Kaito was not: strong, feared, admired.
Kaito didn't turn around. He just kept walking.
It wasn't the first time Ryuji had sought him out. Cruel amusement seemed to be the boy's favorite hobby.
"Hey, Arima," Ryuji called, his voice twisting with laughter. "Why don't you just go join the dead? You'd fit right in. No power, no future—just dust."
Kaito's steps faltered. For a moment, he said nothing. The street was silent except for the hiss of the wind through a nearby vent.
Those words hit something deep inside him.
He knew Ryuji wanted a reaction, but tonight—something inside Kaito was shifting. For the first time in years, the emptiness in his chest wasn't hollow. It was stirring.
"You… don't know anything," he muttered, his voice trembling—not from fear, but from something darker.
Ryuji frowned. "What did you say?"
Kaito finally turned. His eyes glimmered faintly—not with tears, but with a strange, dark reflection.
Then the air changed.
A pulse of energy rippled outward, faint at first, then swelling with impossible force. The temperature plummeted. The lights flickered. Ryuji took an involuntary step back.
"What—what the hell is this?"
Kaito clutched his chest as pain lanced through him. A burning light—no, a dark one—spread from within. It wasn't like any magic he'd ever seen. It was ancient, wrong, suffocating.
The ground trembled. The air grew thick, and shadows twisted like living smoke.
A voice—not heard, but felt—spoke from the depths of his mind.
"You are my heir. You will rule over life and death."
Kaito's body convulsed. His vision blurred. The world fell away.
When he finally looked up, the cracks in the pavement glowed faintly red beneath his feet. His once-dull eyes now burned with an infernal crimson light.
Ryuji stumbled backward, terror etched across his face. "That—power… where is it coming from?"
The darkness around Kaito deepened, as if the shadows themselves bowed before him.
This was no demon, no angel. This was something older. Something divine.
Kaito Arima had been chosen—not by light nor shadow, but by Hades, god of the Underworld.
Chapter 2: The Heir's Choice
The days that followed blurred together in a storm of confusion and fear.
News of what had happened spread through Shirozawa Academy faster than wildfire. Students whispered behind his back, teachers avoided his gaze, and even those who once mocked him now looked at him with silent dread.
Ryuji had been hospitalized, his powers destabilized by the blast that night. Rumors said he could no longer use his shadow abilities. Some even claimed he'd seen the face of death itself.
Kaito wished it was all a nightmare.
Every time he closed his eyes, he felt that voice—the deep, commanding tone that called him heir.
"You are bound to me, mortal child. My dominion is yours. You will carry out my will."
He could barely focus in class. His reflection in the window sometimes shifted—a faint glow behind his eyes, like burning embers.
Then, one afternoon, someone called his name.
"Kaito!"
It was Alicia Bellarose, a girl whose presence seemed to brighten the very air around her. With golden hair and pale blue eyes, she was known as the Angel of Light, blessed by Seraphiel herself. Unlike the others, Alicia had always treated Kaito kindly.
She approached him now, concern etched across her face. "Kaito, what have you done?"
He flinched. "I didn't do anything. It just… happened."
"You've inherited the power of Hades, haven't you?" Her voice trembled, caught between fear and compassion. "Do you realize what that means?"
Kaito looked away. "I don't know what it means! Why me? Why not someone else?"
The anger and despair in his voice echoed through the empty hallway.
Alicia stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her touch was warm—soothing—but Kaito felt the dark energy inside him recoil against her light.
"You're not alone, Kaito," she said softly. "This power will destroy you if you try to fight it. But if you accept it—if you learn to control it—it doesn't have to consume you. I'll help you."
Kaito stared at her hand for a long time before nodding. He wanted to believe her. But deep down, a voice whispered otherwise.
"No one can save you. Not even the light."
Chapter 3: The Curse of Hades
That night, Kaito lay in bed, eyes open to the darkness. The city outside was silent, but within him, the storm never stopped.
He felt it again—the pull of the abyss, the heavy pulse beneath his skin. The shadows in his room seemed to move with a life of their own.
Then came the voice.
"Remember, Kaito. You are my heir. You will bring judgment to the living and the dead."
He jolted upright, gasping. His breath came in ragged bursts. The darkness around him gathered, forming shapes—faces—whispers of the dead, begging for release.
He screamed.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was intact. But the air was cold, and his window was frosted over, though it was the middle of summer.
Kaito buried his face in his hands. "Why me…?"
A faint sound came from his window—a whisper, almost too soft to hear.
"Because the world needs death once more."
And from the shadow beyond the glass, a pair of crimson eyes blinked open.
Mikaela Desoloth, a demon with ties to Hades' ancient enemies, had been watching him for months. Her purpose was simple: either guide the new heir—or destroy him before he awakened fully.
The true struggle had only just begun.