The wind moved softly across the empty road, carrying dust and silence with it. A small boy, no older than seven, stood staring up at a taller figure beside him.
"Hey, Wox…" the child asked, his voice filled with curiosity, "what is a Warrior?"
For a moment, the world seemed to pause.
Wox did not answer immediately. Instead, he slowly lowered himself onto a nearby stone, his gaze drifting far beyond the horizon—as if searching through memories rather than the world before him.
"A Warrior…" he began quietly,"…is someone who possesses wealth, fame… and power."
The boy listened closely, his eyes wide.
"But that is only what people see."
Wox's expression hardened.
"In truth, Warriors are the greatest enemies of the Government."
The child blinked in confusion. "Enemies? Why?"
Wox stood up, the wind tugging lightly at his clothes.
"Because they are free."
There was something heavy in his voice now—something almost dangerous.
"They answer to no one. They live as they wish. In a world built on control… that kind of freedom is seen as a threat."
He turned and began walking away, his figure slowly fading into the distance.
"And that is why," he called back,"this world has been locked in war for years—"
"Government… versus Warriors."
Six years later, the silence of that memory shattered.
The marketplace roared with noise—voices clashing, feet rushing, chaos spilling into every corner. At the center of it all stood a boy.
He was only thirteen.
Yet the way he moved… was anything but ordinary.
"Hit them harder!" someone shouted from the crowd."Those bastards deserve it!"
The boy's fists struck with precision—fast, controlled, relentless. One man fell, then another. None could keep up with him.
But this moment had begun only minutes earlier.
An old man had been walking through the market, his fragile hands clutching a small pouch—the kind that held everything he owned.
He never saw them coming.
A group of thugs surrounded him, ripping the pouch away and shoving him aside. His body lost balance, tipping backward toward the unforgiving ground—
—but he never hit it.
A hand caught him.
Strong. Steady.
The old man looked up, trembling.
A boy stood there, holding him with ease.
"Careful," the boy said calmly.
He helped the man back onto his feet.
Then… he turned.
And everything changed.
The air grew heavier.
The boy's eyes sharpened, his presence shifting into something far more dangerous.
He stepped forward.
The thugs barely had time to react.
His fist struck the first one—fast enough to blur. Another followed, then another. Within seconds, bodies hit the ground, broken and defeated.
Dust rose around him as silence fell.
The boy stood still.
"My name is Zak… Zee Zed."
His voice carried no hesitation.
"I am a Warrior."
But the fight was far from over.
More men emerged from the alleys. Dozens this time.
Zak exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
Then he clenched his fist.
A strange energy gathered around his hand—glowing, pulsating, alive. A layer of crimson light wrapped around his arm like a living force.
"Beast Laser Punch."
The moment he moved, the world seemed to shatter.
Impact after impact echoed through the marketplace. Enemies were thrown back as if struck by an invisible storm. The ground cracked beneath the force of his blows.
When it was over…
No one remained standing.
Zak turned and walked away, as though nothing had happened.
But the world was already beginning to react.
Moments later, Government forces arrived—armed, cold, and far too late.
"What happened here?" one demanded.
A man from the crowd stepped forward, anger burning in his eyes.
"What happened?" he snapped. "Where were you when it mattered?"
"If you had been here earlier, that old man wouldn't be in the hospital!"
"You call yourselves saviors… but you're nothing!"
The words hung in the air.
Then—
A soldier stepped forward and struck him without warning.
The man collapsed.
Silence followed.
Not peace—but fear.
Far from the market, Zak stood alone in a small room, gathering his belongings.
A single thought echoed in his mind.
It's time.
At thirteen, he had reached the age where he could leave the island—where the wider world awaited.
He stepped outside and looked toward the endless ocean.
Freedom lay beyond it.
But before he could leave—
Voices reached him.
"They say a Savior killed someone today…""Just for speaking against the Government…""The man blamed them… said they caused someone's suffering…"
Zak stopped walking.
Something inside him tightened.
"…They killed him?"
The air around him shifted.
Anger rose—quiet at first, then overwhelming.
Without another word, Zak turned back toward the market.
The soldiers were still there.
Searching.
Waiting.
For him.
Zak stepped into view.
"Did you kill someone here?"
The question was simple.
The answer was not.
One soldier laughed.
"Yeah. So what are you going to do about it?"
"And who are you to question us?"
A gun was raised.
The shot rang out.
—but Zak was already gone.
He moved faster than the eye could follow.
A flash of light shot from his fingertip.
The soldier dropped instantly.
Chaos erupted.
More soldiers rushed in, followed by a figure whose presence alone silenced the battlefield—
The Vice Head.
Power radiated from him.
"Kill the boy."
The command was absolute.
Zak fought.
And he won.
One by one, the soldiers fell.
But the Vice Head remained.
He stepped forward and struck—
The impact sent Zak crashing back.
Dust filled the air.
For a moment… nothing moved.
Then—
Zak stood again.
Injured.
But unbroken.
Energy gathered once more around his arm.
The Vice Head smirked.
"I am not like the others."
A powerful aura formed around his fist.
They charged.
Their attacks collided—
A violent explosion tore through the ground.
Both forces canceled each other.
Zak took a slow breath.
"Then watch carefully…"
The energy around him intensified—growing larger, heavier, more dangerous.
His arm became engulfed in a massive construct of light.
"Limited… Laser Punch."
He struck.
And this time—
Nothing stopped it.
When the dust settled, the Vice Head lay defeated.
Zak stood over him, barely able to remain upright.
Later, after tending to his wounds, Zak made his way to the harbor.
Without hesitation, he bought a small boat.
He did not look back.
The island faded behind him.
But the world had already heard his name.
In a distant chamber, a report was delivered.
"The Vice Head has been defeated… by a boy named Zak."
Silence.
Then a voice spoke from the shadows.
"…Place a bounty on him."
"Ten million."
And across the world—
Warriors and criminals alike began to move.
All for one name.
Zak Zee Zed.
End of Chapter 1