It was night. The sky was drowned in darkness, the moon half-hidden behind clouds. Inside the hollow hall of an ancient temple, several hooded figures were bent over, forming a dark ritual circle. Their voices sounded strained, like ancient chants echoing from another age.
Among them stood a man—his eyes glowing blood-red. A slow smile crept across his face.
"Very soon… Naraksha will awaken again. And this time, no clan will be able to stop us."
---
Daytime. It looked like an ordinary Japanese high school, but inside, a boy sat by the window—Arata. His eyes were fixed outside, as if he was staring into another world, disconnected from this one.
"Arata!" a friend shouted, breaking his focus. "Why are you always so lost?"
Arata gave a faint smile and picked up his pencil. But the moment he held it, a strange warmth spread through his hand. A red mark on his palm began to glow faintly.
*"This mark… it's burning again? What is it…?"* Arata wondered, though he remained silent outwardly.
His friend jokingly snatched the pencil away. As Arata tried to take it back, he unconsciously tightened his grip.
Crack! The pencil snapped into two pieces.
"Hey!" his friend laughed, "When are you going to control your strength?"
Arata smiled awkwardly. "It was just… an accident."
---
In the evening, Arata stood alone on the rooftop. The wind blew fiercely, tangling his hair.
"Since childhood… I've always been different. Everyone says I'm normal, but I've never believed it myself."
A memory flashed in his mind—he was just six years old. In anger, he punched a tree, and the entire trunk collapsed. His mother screamed in fear, "Arata! Stop!"
And his father's stern face—"Never show your power to anyone. Promise me."
---
Suddenly, the ground trembled violently. From the streets below came a terrifying roar.
People ran in panic as a Cursed Beast emerged—its eyes glowing like blood, black smoke emanating from its body.
Arata's breathing grew heavy. The creature's gaze locked directly onto him.
"Is it… looking at me?"
The monster raised its massive claw and lunged. There was no time to escape—instinctively, Arata thrust his hand forward.
BOOM!
A powerful shockwave exploded through the air. The monster's claw collided with Arata's hand—but Arata had stopped it!
The red mark on his palm blazed like fire.
"What… is happening to me?!"
---
Suddenly, the air pressure shifted. A man appeared out of nowhere—stylish, wearing sunglasses, a long coat, and a confident grin. His presence alone felt overwhelming, as if the world itself bent before him.
"Tch…" he clicked his tongue. "Looks like the cult has finally started their game."
He raised his hand. For a moment, space itself seemed to distort, as if reality was being twisted. The monster screamed—but in the next second, its entire body folded and vanished into nothingness.
"Back to the void where you belong," the man said coldly.
Arata stood in shock. "W-What… who ARE you?!"
The man adjusted his glasses and laughed lightly.
"Me? …Just a guy who's about to become your babysitter."
Before Arata could process it, the man's expression turned serious. Looking straight into Arata's eyes, he said—
"You're not normal, Arata. You are the last descendant of the rarest clan in the world… the Crimson Vein Clan."
Arata's heart pounded rapidly. "Crimson… Vein…?"
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere, the cult leader completed his ritual. A dark relic in his hand began to glow. A black aura spread across the sky.
"Rise… Naraksha," he whispered in a strained voice.
At that exact moment, the red mark on Arata's hand flared intensely—as if something inside him was about to break free.
---
**Episode 1 End.**
*To be continued…*