On
a full moon night, beneath a restless sky veiled with drifting clouds...
An axe tore through heaven, slicing the air apart in a flash of fire. Flames ignited, wrapping the weapon in a blazing aura like a living inferno. It descended from the northeast sky—an omen of destruction.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield…
Alone, the boy faced the Royal Guardians — mighty wielders of the Five Elements.
The clash was merciless; their power shattered the earth itself. The boy stumbled, his small frame trembling as the ground quaked beneath him.
Motionless, he lay upon the ruined field, ash clinging to his final breath. His fading eyes drifted shut, as though surrendering to the night.
Suddenly—
He saw… a different place.
A memory not his own.
The night was silent except for the faint whisper of the wind passing through skeletal branches. Under the looming full moon, its pale light spilled across the barren path. Alone woman walked there, slow and faltering, the hem of her dress brushing the dusty ground.
In her arms, she cradled a child — a newborn baby — wrapped in a coarse blanket.
The tiny breaths rose and fell softly against her chest.
Unaware of the Shadows stretched across their path... and in her eyes, faint moonlight was reflected from the darkness ahead.
She walked to the edge of the ridgeline, where the ground simply dropped into darkness so deep that even the moonlight could not touch its depths. She stared into the void for a long moment, then whispered to the wind—
"Do it, for me son… show them what I raised.…!"
An axe lay embedded in the earth beside the fallen boy.
A blood-stained hand reached out… and grasped its handle.
In that instant, a radiant wind swept across the desolate field.
Then the moon vanished behind roaring thunderclouds. Bolts of gold lit the sky.
Around the young boy, a mighty tornado began to form — a huge, twisting cyclone crackling with terrifying power.
The sky ripped open with a deafening roar as a colossal bolt of black thunder crossed it. Lightning twisted like the fangs of a dragon, the ground trembled, and shadows danced under its light.
Revealing a colossal blood-red moon, hovering above — its glow painting the battlefield in crimson.
Soon after,
the sound of the clock tower bell thundered… across the land like a harbinger of inevitable doom.
[Deep within the forest, red eyes opened.
He walked along the edge of the mountain that overlooked the valley. Lifting his gaze, he saw the red moon hovering in the sky at that distant height. He let out a terrifying scream that tore through the night.]
A man suddenly awoke from his dream — his body trembling, his breath heavy. The reflection of the red moon and the echo of the scream still echoed in his mind.
He looked through the narrow crack toward the sky — chains clanked beside his cell.
And then, unseen, pulled away beyond the prison walls… reality recollecting the cruelty he awoke in.
Above it all, in the vast sky, he saw the red moon burning its glow — neither gentle nor holy, but heavy, ominous… a sign that something had awakened.
His eyes widened, his heart racing in horror and dread. Then it struck him — this was no dream.
Then, a trembling whisper escaped his lips as fear.
The guardian's eyes had shown —
Whether it was the blood-red moon shining or its ghostly glow like a scarlet flame, no one could tell.
The guardian drew in a long breath, as though pulling the battlefield's very air into his chest.
With firm steps, ( ) walked forward, sword in hand, his steely eyes reaching the crimson sky.
From within his cloak, the guardian pulled out the Book of Ether.
The book trembled in his hands, its pages fluttering wildly until they stopped on one — marked with an ancient incantation.
The guardian bowed his head and with a deep, resonant voice, he spoke the forbidden word:
"..."
The ground beneath him quaked. A vast summoning sigil, bursty into light.
Suddenly in the ground of the battle -
⚡ Blue lightning cracked through the air, twisting and surging toward the circle's center. The sigil erupted with light — not gentle, but blinding, alive. The runes around the outer ring flared one by one, glowing with searing azure fire, and the four elemental symbols pulsed in rhythm — Fire. Water. Earth. Air.
The very walls began to shake. Curtains of blue energy spiralled upward, painting the palace in ethereal light. The air grew thick, humming with ancient resonance. Every person within the hall froze where they stood — eyes wide, hearts pounding.
The circle was calling them — pulling them in.
A magnetic force radiated outward, gripping the souls of all who witnessed it. Their cloaks whipped in the tempest; their hair lifted in the storm of power as if the circle itself was devouring the air.
From the center, arcs of blue lightning shot upward, splitting the heavens open. A sigil appeared above — a perfect reflection of the one on the ground — spinning in harmony, its light connecting heaven and earth.
Then came the voice.
Ancient. Resounding. Speaking in a tongue, no mortal could name — the language of creation itself.
"By the balance of the four… awaken, seal of the eternal…"
The runes blazed brighter, twisting in spirals of flame and frost, wind and stone. A wave of energy surged outward, shaking the entire palace. Pillars cracked. Windows shattered. And yet, none could look away — for within that radiant storm, something divine and terrifying was awakening.
The circle pulsed one final time —
and the world seemed to hold its breath.
The circle pulsed one final time —
and the world seemed to hold its breath.
At the very canter a smaller circle pulsed — marked with a cross enclosed within, the symbol of balance and eternity. The entire seal hummed in resonance, its power building with each breath.
The guardian's cloak whipped in the rising wind as the sigil burned brighter, carving its light into the earth. The ancient circle had awakened once more.
As a vast summoning circle ignited in the open battlefield, burning with otherworldly light.
At that moment, each guardian slowly opened their left hand, and there, etched in fiery light, the symbol of their element began to glow.
Their eyes locked onto the mark, glowing unwaveringly resolute. The radiated their downward circle, then one by one crossed the colored arcs across the battlefield as they called out the name of their power beasts.
At the very same moment, soldiers charged forward. Their weapons roared against the raging cascade. Cannons roared, hurling fire and iron into the swirling storm.
The storm raged above the grand palace, the red moon casting its glow over the blood-soaked land.
The King stood on the balcony, silent, unmoving, his cloak fluttering in the violent wind.
His face was hidden in shadow — only the curve of his lips and the outline of his back could be seen against the crimson sky.
King:"There is no more time, Atoi."
The words were quiet, yet they struck like thunder. Atoi lowered his head, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
The others exchanged uneasy glances but remained still.
The King's cloak rippled as the storm roared louder.
---> [The palace roof glowed red beneath the blood-stained moon, and there he stood — silent, cloaked, unseen by the world. The storm raged, the tornado screamed back.
No one had ever seen his face — only the curve of his lips beneath the shadowed hood, and the dark silhouette of his back against the raging sky.
His coffee was bitter than the wind itself.
That person is :"The King of the Dark."
Softly, he smiled.]
KING,
He turned away from the balcony. The hem of his royal cloak swept across the marble floor, echoing softly through the empty halls as he stepped back into the shadowed corridors of the palace.
But before his second step could fall, the world outside split apart.
The tornado shuddered violently—then tore in half with a deafening roar.
From its heart erupted a colossal surge of power, a blinding explosion of black thunder and scarlet light.
The air screamed, the ground itself seemed to convulse under the force of the aura.
Every soldier, every guardian, even the storm itself—froze, trembling above, beneath its pressure.
It wasn't wind. It wasn't magic. It was something older, heavier… alive.
The guardians struggled to stand, their weapons trembling in their grasp.
"Th–This… this power…!"
one of them gasped, his voice breaking beneath the weight.
Even from within the palace, the King stopped in his tracks. The light from the corridor windows dimmed as the black aura rippled through the air.
He didn't turn back — but his hand tightened around his cloak.
Then the King slowly turned back toward the balcony, his footsteps echoing faintly through the silent hall. The black aura still danced in the air outside, crackling like lightning, frozen in smoke.
He stepped out once more — and there, amidst the swirling darkness, a lone figure stood.
Half -hidden by shadow, his form was cloaked in mist, but his eyes burned red twin embers -cold,
Unblinking, alive with the same fury that once shook the world.
For a long moment, the king said nothing.
The wind howled through the palace spires, carrying the weight of memory.
Then, almost as if speaking to himself, the king whispered -his voice rough, filled with disbelief and a trace of sorrow:
:" HOW...…how can it still be alive ...
...…. the blood line...….".
[the camara going to the boy, now stand against the king and guardians.
Capturing the current battlefield environment].
As his side stood, his right hand — a swordsman draped in black armor.
His eyes burned like steel, his spirit unmoved by fear. Without a single word, the samurai stepped forward. The marble beneath him shattered as he leapt, soaring through the crimson sky, landing on the battlefield below.
Dust swirled around him.
He drew his blade with a whisper that cut through the silence —a sound older than war itself.
The red moon's light glinted off the edge of his sword as he walked, each step steady, unstoppable.
The boy stood still, aura burning like a storm reborn.
Their eyes met — one calm, one consumed. Then, the samurai vanished. Only a blur of motion and the faint ring of steel filled the night.
As he charged headlong into the heart of darkness, the samurai dashed through the halls, closing in on the boy — but then something shifted. The air itself grew heavy, the clouds above twisting unnaturally.
A sound like tearing metal echoed through the storm. The samurai stopped mid-step, his instincts screaming — he glanced up.
And there, the blood-red sky shattered across itself, pulsing.
A shockwave hit the ground as it landed. Dust exploded outward, stone shattered beneath its weight.
When the haze cleared, the samurai's eyes widened. Before him stood a monstrous figure — muscles of silver and black, eyes burning like molten fire. It became radiant, a strong, fierce heat that shook the air. The samurai tightened his grip on the sword, his cloak fluttering in the aura.
Pouring from the beast, neither moved. The world seemed to hold its breath. Then the samurai slowly lifted his sword, its edge humming with restrained power.
His eyes, calm yet cold, met the beast's burning gaze. A faint smile reached his lips.
Samurai: "I've waited for this moment… through every battle, every scar, every passing year. ...…...Now, Komado… I'll finish what began long ago."
Komado's chest rumbled a second held snarl full of memory.
A single step echoed behind the boy. From the shadows of the trees, red eyes glowed like burning coals.
samurai Stepped forward, standing before komado small in size but the storm bent around him
The samurai gaze narrowed. He felt it — the shift in the air, the surge of raw power.
Komado's chest expanded — then came the roar.
ROOOAAARRRR…!
A sound so deep it shook the sky itself.
At the same moment, the boy raised his hand a black aura erupted from his body a cyclone of darkness and flame spiralling upward to meet the heaven. The samurai steadied his stance. Cloak snapping in the wind. Its sword hummed with rising energy.
The king/samurai:
"LIKE.... FATHER...LIKE ...…...SON".
The storm of power tore across the battlefield, a wave of darkness and blinding light twisting together.
The ground split open. Tree bent to the force. the summoning circle shattered like glass under divine pressure.
Among the chaos stood viora, the guardian of water. Her silver blue eyes widened as the surge reached her. The aura's reflection danced across her face like ripple on lake, then froze.
Her pupils dilated.
The word around her vanished.
Only a vision remained.
She saw the boy drenched in shadow, his left hand gripping a severed head, his face calm... empty.
Before him, a grave, marked by a nameless stone. The wind in that vision carried the faint sound of sorrow and guilt.
Viora gasped, her knees gave way, and she fell to the ground, trembling. Her voice broken through the thunder.
[Her body went still --- the mark of water on her palm flickering like a dying flame]
"NO...…. THIS POWER ...…. THIS FATE...… IT'S NOT HIS ALONE".
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